“What?”
“The first time I met you, when we went to the back room of the bar together, why did you run away?”
Brick shook his head, confused at my question. “Why are you asking me that?”
I looked at his hands again, his fingers still twitching, and at the cardboard box against the wall, dented in from his kick.
“You’ve been fighting for a long time?” I asked.
“My whole damn life. Yeah, I’d say it’s been a long time.”
His whole life. That meant he’d been fighting since his childhood. I didn’t doubt that. I also didn’t doubt that he’d seen a lot of violence, inside and outside of the fighting pit. And I knew enough of the world to know that violence like that can leave a person messed up.
If you didn’t heal from it, in fact, you’d just end up feeling it over and over again.
It would be like the fight never stopped.
“Brick, I think you might be triggered,” I said, suddenly aware I might not have another opportunity to say it to him. “The way your body is reacting and the things you’re saying, I think you might be having a flashback or something.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t have flashbacks.”
“Irving…” Ezra said cautiously while he pulled his shirt on.
“If you’ve been fighting your whole life,” I continued, “you probably have those fighting instincts baked into you. It’s not uncommon. You’re used to having to defend yourself with your fists every time you get into trouble, so that’s how you respond to problems. And if someone has hurt you, it can feel like that person is hurting you all over again when things get stressful or difficult. All I’m saying is you don’t have to fight anymore, Brick.”
He gritted his teeth together, his clenched jaw working a circle while he stared at the ground. My pulse quickened, and I worried that I had said the wrong thing. I didn’t actually know his story or what he had been through, even if it was clear that he was being thrown back into those memories every time he had to raise his fists in the air. Maybe I had spoken out of turn, when I really should just listen to his advice and tear myself away.
“It’s easy to say you don’t have to fight anymore,” he finally answered. “But men like me don’t always get choices like that.”
He bent down, scooping up my T-shirt and tossing it my way. Glancing between the two of us, his face softened for a moment. “I know it’s not nice of me to throw you out of here in the morning. Hell, I wish I could toss you back onto the bed and have my way with you each one more time. You’re cute guys, and you do something to me that I can’t quite explain. Don’t go thinking I’m going to forget about you, but please, for your own sakes, leave me be. Just pretend I’m already on the road out of town and try to appreciate the time we did get together. Trust me, connections like this don’t come along very often.”
I nodded, resigning myself to what he said. Pushing Brick on the subject wasn’t likely to get a different answer, and that little monologue was probably the most I had heard him say at once anyway. It had only taken a couple of long, hard fucking sessions to get it out of him. “I guess that means we should get going,” I said, taking a step toward the door.
Brick held his hand out to stop me. “Sorry, guys.”
“What?” Ezra asked, finally fully dressed. “What are you apologizing about now?”
Brick crossed the room, then pulled up the window to the back. He shrugged. “Someone might be watching this place.”
Ezra jumped up, grabbing my hand and then leaning forward to kiss Brick on the cheek. Brick’s long eyelashes blinked in response, Ezra once again managing to catch him off guard.
“I won’t complain, only because sneaking out the window is kind of sexy,” he said, throwing his leg over the sill. “I won’t say a proper goodbye, either. Based on how things have gone before, I’m pretty sure we’ll see you again.”
Brick rubbed his hand against his stubble. “Please don’t say that.”
Ezra tugged my hand to follow him along. I turned, planting a quick kiss on Brick’s cheek as well and letting my lips linger there for a minute. The sting of the stubble reminded me of the burning pleasure of the spankings he had given me, one of many memories I’d treasure from the motel.
“Goodbye, Brick,” I said softly. “I understand.”
His eyes relaxed, and he surprised me by leaning forward, kissing my cheek in response. “Thanks.”
And with that, I crawled my way through the window, lowering myself onto the grass and dirt behind the motel. The Cascade Mountains rose up through the trees behind us, and Ezra’s hand grabbed my own as he pulled me along.
“I hope Brick is okay,” I said, kicking at a pinecone. “Whatever he’s dealing with sounds like scary stuff.”
“It sure does,” Ezra replied, holding my hand a little tighter. “Thank god he’s got us in his corner, even if he doesn’t realize it yet.”
