Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“Okay. We’ll still order enough so you can eat it when you get to my place.”
Rory finally looked up and he could see it in both their expressions. They knew him too well. “No, I mean I’m going over there for a few days. I’m not exactly fun to hang around with right now and I’ll probably be at the hospital more than I would if I were on the clock so… I’ll call and let you know what’s going on.”
“Don’t do this.” Rig didn’t shout, he didn’t beg. He stood as if he were bracing for a fight but his voice was calm. Almost gentle. “They came home. That has nothing to do with what’s going on with us.”
David tried to reach for him but he shook his head sharply. “I need time to think,” he said, repeating David’s words from what seemed like so long ago. “I need you to give me time.”
He paled. “You aren’t thinking clearly. You’re father—”
“Isn’t the issue.” Liar. “I can’t handle this right now. Do I look like I’m equipped to handle any of this?”
In that moment he couldn’t see a way for the three of them to work after today. Not in the real world where he worked odd hours, lived in a hole in the wall and had a fucked up relationship with his father.
He’d never be enough to make them happy. He couldn’t make anyone happy. Not outside of the bedroom. He didn’t know how.
“Wait,” David said, his voice rasping with pain and more than a trace of anger. “I know you have a lot going on but—”
Rig put his hand on David’s shoulder and squeezed hard, stopping him. “He said he needs a few days, David. He’s being honest, which is what we asked him to be. He’s not writing us off. He’ll deal with this, and when he needs us he’ll call.”
I’ll never be the one to write you off…
But he wouldn’t call. Not right away. He really did need time to think. To find the courage to face the part of himself he was still hiding away. To stop fearing David and Rig would see him as he really was and discover that he wasn’t worth what they were offering.
They deserved better. And he would do whatever was necessary to give them what they deserved. Even if it broke his heart.
Chapter Eight
6 days later…
Rory was staring out of the back of the ambulance, sandwich forgotten in his hand as he tried to put everything out of his mind. Meditation might be a racket. That or the therapist he’d paid to see twice in one week was pranking him.
Loud music, wild sex and a good book took his mind off his troubles. Trying not to think about them only made him think of…everything. His brain was as stubborn as he was.
He missed Rig and David and wanted to call them at least five times a day. He wanted to sleep between them, knowing that tomorrow would be better. Neither of those things was possible. Not right now.
Not tonight.
He startled when his partner sat down beside him. “Hey Walter.” He tried to smile, but as usual the insightful man saw right through him.
“What’s going on, Finn?”
“I was meditating. It’s nothing.”
“Meditating? Isn’t that supposed to relax you? You don’t look relaxed to me.”
Rory shrugged. “Which is why I’m trying to meditate.”
Walter nudged him with his elbow. “Come on, I know something’s up. I have a feeling it’s going to be a quiet night so you might as well spill the beans now. My woman will withhold her affections if I don’t come back from this shift with one of two things. A daring tale of emergency bravery or a sexy story from her favorite study buddy.”
“Macy is a bad influence,” Rory said jokingly. “Two years ago you acted like I was going to dry hump you every time I opened my mouth. Now you want all the juicy gay details. For shame, Walter. For shame.”
Walter held up his hands and panted like a dog, spoiling the effect with a loud laugh. “She has got me trained, it’s true. And between you and me, I couldn’t be happier with the treats I get for being good.”
“Bad influence. Also too much information. I already know more about your honeymoon than I ever needed to.” Rory shook his head ruefully at his friend.
Walter had gotten married nine months ago, and Rory would have thought he’d invented the institution. He’d been in charge of planning the wedding, and he’d loved it more than any man or woman Rory had ever known, gay or straight.
Rory had been forced to listen to every detail during their shifts, from the flower arrangements, to the music, to the toasts. And though he’d been present for the entire blessed event—even dancing with both the bride and groom—he still had to listen to a blow by blow of every minute of Walter’s special day. Every day. For a week.