“Another, please.”Mike rapped his empty glass on the bar. He was feeling comfortably numb, but not numb enough. The ache that filled him each time he tried to imagine what Tommy was feeling was proof enough of that. It was the not knowing that was killing him.
“I think you’ve had enough.” Kevin folded his arms and did his best to glare at him, but that shit never worked on Mike anyhow. “What you really need to do is talk to me. What’s wrong, Mikey? I’ve never seen you in here on a weeknight, for one thing. An’ I thought you an’ Tommy were going away for a few days.”
Mike leaned forward, elbows on the bar, and counted off on his fingers. “One, I haven’t had nearly enough. Trust me on that. Two, I’m in here ’cause I’ve spent the last two nights drinkin’ alone an’ I’ve had enough of my own sorry ass for comp’ny. And three, Tommy is the reason for my drinkin’ in the first place.” He held up the empty glass. “So don’t make me climb over that bar and beat you, Kev. Pour me a drink.”
Kevin contemplated him in silence for a moment and then nodded. He picked up the bottle and poured out a measure. “We’re almost done for the night. You wanna hang around and talk when everyone’s gone?”
Mike snorted. “Talkin’ about this whole fucked-up mess is the last thing I wanna do. But I guess you deserve to know what’s goin’ on, after puttin’ up with me whinin’ all night.”
Kevin’s expression softened. “Dude, you haven’t whined once, but youhaveworried the hell out of me. So drink that—slowly, mind—and we can talk later.” He walked off to serve another customer, leaving Mike to gaze into the dark amber liquid.
Staring at his own four walls had grown too stultifying. It didn’t help that he kept seeing Tommy in his bed, in the shower, at the dining table—hell, that boy waseverywhere. When it all got too much, Mike grabbed his keys and left the house. Although he might have to take a cab home. He didn’t dare risk driving in his state.
His head started to pound, and the bourbon lost its attractiveness. Mike leaned over until his forehead touched his crossed forearms on the bar, and closed his eyes. This wasn’t him. Mike Scott didnotlet a guy get to him like this. Dirk had left him pretty messed up, and Mike had sworn that was the last time, but here he was, head over heels in love.
How’d Tommy get in so goddamn fast?
Mike knew how love could be. He’d seen guys meet one night at the bar, and the next weekend one of them was turning up at the other’s place with a U-Haul. He knew couples who’d begun their relationship after a matter of days, that were still together decades later. Conversely, he’d watched many a relationship fall apart, even when everyone who knew the guys had felt sure this was it, love with a capitalL.
Mike knew the truth. Love was a fickle bitch. Love was sneaky, devious, and had a mind of her own. The last thing he’d expected was to find himself ensnared in her tangled web again, hooked and pulled in by a fresh-faced, beautiful soul like Tommy. He just hadn’t seen it coming.
It was something of a shock to realize the bar had gone quiet.
Mike looked up to find the place had emptied. Patrick was busy wiping down the bar and tables, and Kevin was collecting the last of the glasses. The pain in Mike’s head had eased down a notch or two, and he slipped off his stool to stand on unsteady legs.
“I’m gonna go, guys.”
Kevin was at his side in an instant. “Oh no, you’re not. Patrick is gonna make us some coffee, and you are gonna sit there and tell us what’s going on.” Patrick nodded from behind the bar and headed back in search of coffee.
Mike sighed. Like he’d expected anything else.
One cup of coffee later and he’d told them everything. Kevin’s face was a picture of misery, and Patrick looked glum.
“So what happens now?” Kevin asked him. “You’re not just gonna walk away, right? I mean, you love him, don’t ya?”
Mike stared at his empty coffee cup. “Yeah, I love him. I just need to figure out what my next move is.”
Patrick grabbed his arm and gaped at him. “I’lltell you what your next move is. You quit feeling sorry for yourself and drinking like a fish, and you talk to him. You call him, and youkeepcalling him until he answers the fucking phone!”
Mike lifted his eyebrows at the outburst. “Hey, don’t hold back, Patrick. Say what you feel.” He gave his fellow bartender a wry smile.
Patrick shook his head, scowling. “I’m serious, Mike. That boy loves you. The age difference don’t matter, your porn career don’t matter, but hedoes. So you’d better fight for him, with everything you’ve got. An’ you don’t quit until you’re certain you’ve done everything you possibly could. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.” Mike rose to his feet, and Patrick copied him. He pulled Mike into a fierce hug and then released him with a huff. Mike patted his cheek. “Thank you.”
Kevin eyed him keenly. “You’re not thinking of driving that truck, are ya?”
Mike shook his head. “I’ll call a cab and come by later to pick it up.” He paused, regarding his two friends. “And I will call him. I promise. As soon as it’s daylight and I know he’s awake.” It was Wednesday but only just, and enough time had passed to ease the severity of Tommy’s emotions—he hoped.
It was Kevin’s turn to give Mike a brief hug. “I hope it works for you two. I really do.” He patted Mike on the butt. “Now go home and get some sleep.” He grinned. “Us working dudes gotta finish up so we can grab some sleep too.”
Mike picked up his jacket from the stool next to him and pulled his phone from his pocket. He scrolled through to find the cab firm he usually used and called to order a taxi. Outside the bar, the early morning air was cool enough to feel refreshing against his slightly aching head. He stood at the curb, watching the steady passage of cars and trucks past the bar, even at this early hour. Sleep had been elusive the last few nights, and Mike was hoping to crash for a while at least.
Then it would be time to call Tommy and see if they could sort out this mess.
Tommy peered into the cabinets, but there was no sign of any hot chocolate. There wasn’t much in them at all, actually. Ben tended to grab food from the family kitchen if he was hungry, but Tommy kept a supply of energy bars downstairs for between meals. He knew he was welcome in the family kitchen, but raiding those cabinets felt like too much of an intrusion. Except this was his third night of not sleeping so good, and he had the idea that hot chocolate might help. Nothing to do but to goupstairs. Ben was home for once. Tommy’d had the notion that his roomie might have made the most of spring break, but Ben had seemed reluctant to go out to his usual clubs.
He crept upstairs as quietly as he could, given that it was past one in the morning, and into the darkened kitchen. The light above the range hood was plenty enough for his purposes. Tommy reached into the cabinet to take out the container of hot chocolate. He figured heating milk on the stove was quieter than using the microwave. He leaned against the countertop, waiting for the milk to reach its temperature.
