Love Him Wild

by E M Lindsey

  And fuck if Fitz wasn’t right about that. But he didn’t know how Fitz could expect him to look him in the eyes ever again. Hell, he didn’t know why Fitz wanted to. “I’m sorry.” His voice was barely a whisper, but Fitz heard him. “I’m…I’ll go.”

  And then he did. He finished his degree, and he finished his training. He took the management position and donned a park ranger uniform, and he dedicated the rest of his life to watching. Protecting—not in the way that Fitz did, but in his own, quieter style.

  Ronan’s legs were a little shaky as he got into the shower, and he ached in his lower back. Pinched nerve probably. He needed new furniture, but it was hard to justify the cost when he was only ever trying to impress himself. He’d gone into Colorado Springs, and even all the way to Denver to visit a few clubs where no one would recognize him, but he didn’t bring them home.

  Home was his, a sanctuary away from all the things he was hiding from. His siblings were spread across the country, his parents had passed two years after he graduated high school. He had nothing, really. But nothing was okay. Nothing kept everyone else safe.

  He felt a bit more human after standing under the stream of hot water for long enough to wrinkle the pads of his fingers. He was still a little weak, but coffee and breakfast would fix it. He could do rounds on the ATV easy enough, and after that he just had his reports to file. He threw a couple of pain killers in with the two pieces of toast that were too black for his preference, but Ronan had never been the kind of person to waste food. He choked it down with cheap coffee, then grabbed his hat and keys and headed for the garage.

  The ATV hummed under him, irritating his tired legs, but once he was going, the cool breeze and warm sun took the edge off his discomfort. He’d been doing this a while now, training since he turned eighteen, and managing since his graduation from the University. It was a bittersweet day. He hadn’t told a soul about it, and with his parents dead, he received a polite applause as he walked the stage to grab his blank piece of paper posing as a diploma, but nothing more.

  There were no photographs or warm hugs waiting for him. No excited voices rising over the din of the crowd calling his name. Just him and an empty ache in his chest as he glanced across the sea of students who had the strength and bravery to make something of their lives.

  He drove back to Cherry Creek that night and hung his graduation gown in his closet, along with the cap and tassel. He wasn’t sure why he walked, why he wasted money on the gown, why he wasted time on sitting there. It wouldn’t have meant more or less to get his diploma in the mail and skip the pomp and ceremony.

  Doing that alone didn’t make it feel more real than it was.

  His parents probably would have come if they were alive, but he wasn’t sure. This hadn’t been the future they envisioned for their late in life little accident. But he didn’t feel guilty about it. He had no more room in him for any guilt besides the way he had let his friends down. Not just Fitz—not just the way he’d put his own wants above his friend’s life, but also turning his back on them both.

  He’d never forget Parker’s face as he backed away. He’d never forget that kiss and how empty he felt when he’d taken his hand away. Ronan wasn’t a virgin, but nothing had ever made him feel. Not the way Parker had, even those precious few times they’d been together.

  Years later, and it was still always and forever, Parker.

  Ronan didn’t venture into town often, but he was in a better mood than the morning. His headache had cleared up, and his legs felt better after walking through the cabins which were just waiting on the paint and cabinets. He was nervous about the idea of renting them out to people, not just the dangers of the lake and the woods, but also having people so close. But he liked the idea he was helping the town without being asked to compromise his own comfort.

  He was in better spirits than usual when he made his trip to the supermarket, and, on a whim, decided to pop into the pub on the corner to get a beer and order something to take back with him. Fatigue was eating at him, but it wasn’t enough to stop his small smile at Bobbi, who winked over the tap.

  “Hey, sweetheart. You want your usual?” He’d known Bobbi since he was a boy, and she had always greeted him the same way. Hey, sweetheart. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get tired of it.

  “Yes, please.”

  She winked again, then called out to the kitchen before pouring his beer. It was just the right temperature, not too cold, not too warm. The bubbles tickled the back of his throat, and he fought back a cough before taking a deeper pull. The warmth of the alcohol settled just under his skin, not enough to leave a buzz, but enough to relax him by a fraction.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the mountain man himself,” came a familiar voice to his left.

  Ronan tried not to tense, tried not to grimace, but it was impossible. His anger was always directed at himself, but he knew he looked furious when Fitz pulled back the barstool and sat. Isaac was on his other side—fresh-faced and newly appointed to the department. They looked like they’d been working, though he didn’t detect the smell of smoke on them and that helped.

  “Are you ever going to stop hating me?” Fitz asked quietly.

  Ronan swallowed thickly, throat tight. “That’s…I don’t hate you.”

  “Sure, man.” Fitz laughed, but the sound was sad, and he clapped him on the arm. “What are you drinking?”

  “Beer,” Ronan said. “Just waiting on a burger to take home.”

  “Want to eat it here, have a couple more with me?”

  Yes, he did. He more than wanted that. He wanted it so badly it made him ache. “I can’t. I have groceries in the car.”

  “Then maybe some company,” Fitz suggested.

  “I…”

  “For a guy who doesn’t hate me, you sure fucking act like it.”

  Ronan bowed his head and took a breath. “Can you follow me home? I’m exhausted, and I don’t think I can make a second drive.” That was not a lie. His arms felt heavy, legs like there were weights attached. It had been an easy day, but a damn long one.

  Still, it was worth it to push through if it meant seeing Fitz smile like that at him. “Let me get ahold of Chance.” He dug into his pocket, then cradled his phone in his scarred hand, using his other one to tap out a text.

  Ronan vaguely knew who Chance was, though they’d never met. He hadn’t been in town that long, but he’d set eyes on Fitz the moment he arrived, and he’d made it his mission to win him over. Even from his solitary hide-out in the woods, Ronan knew most of the town gossip. Fitz was head-over-heels, but the relationship was casual, and Ronan didn’t think it was doing Fitz any good.

  But they hadn’t been real friends in years, so he had no right to say a word about it.

  “Hey, sweetheart, here’s your food,” Bobbi said. Her voice interrupted Ronan’s spiraling thoughts, and he looked over at Fitz who was still typing. “Edmund, honey, you want something?”

  “I’ll just pick off Ronan’s plate,” Fitz said, like it was nothing. Like it was freshman year all over again and none of them had any concept of personal space.

  His gut twisted, but he didn’t say anything. He pushed his half-empty beer back toward her, then handed her his card to close out the tab. By the time she got back with his receipt, Fitz had his phone put away, hand in his pocket, digging out his keys.

  “Race you there?” he asked.

  Ronan grabbed his burger box and rolled his eyes. “Please don’t.”

  “You’re just a chicken shit,” Fitz said, and he whistled a little tune as he led the way out.

  Ronan didn’t take the bait, didn’t let Fitz goad him into thinking this was normal. It wasn’t. Ronan had come at him in public, then never quite apologized, and neither of them had tried to rectify any of their mistakes. And now here they were, Fitz following Ronan to the parking lot. Fitz inviting himself over like that was just a thing they did.

  “You know the way?” Ronan asked, and he saw heartbreak in Fi
tz’s eyes.

  “I’m not gonna forget where I…” he stopped.

  Maybe it was the fact that Ronan now lived two hundred feet from where Fitz almost burned to death that he said nothing, but those unspoken words landed heavy between them.

  After a beat, Fitz let out a breath and took a step toward him. “It’s fine.”

  “I know.”

  Fitz laughed and shook his head. “Do you?”

  Ronan dragged a hand through his hair, then sighed and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Do you want to do this here or where we can have more beer?”

  “More beer. Always more beer.” Fitz turned on his heel and walked off, and Ronan got behind the wheel, cursing a blue streak at himself before starting his engine and driving off.

  It wasn’t long before there were headlights behind him and then passing him. Still, he didn’t rise to the bait. He kept his pace, and he finally pulled up to his cabin with Fitz there, waiting against his car with his arms crossed.

  “Do you need help with the groceries?” he asked as Ronan opened the door to the back seat of his car.

  His first instinct was to say no, was to tell Fitz not to help and go sit, but there would be no point. He gestured toward the bags, gathered a few himself, then made it up to the front door. His energy was ebbing away, and he was dragging as he got everything inside.

  He knew Fitz was watching him, scrutinizing his every move, and it made the back of his neck flush.

  “Are you okay?”

  Ronan fought back a sigh. “I’m hungry and tired. It’s been non-stop bullshit since they started building those cabins and I’m…I need a day off.”

  Fitz’s face softened. “Go sit and eat. I’m sure I can figure out where all your stuff goes.”

  Ronan wanted to argue—desperately. He wanted to just wave a magic wand and make this all stop. But instead, he gave a curt nod, grabbed a beer from his fridge and his food from the table, and walked off.

  It felt like heaven to sink onto his uncomfortable sofa, the pressure off his legs such a relief he let out a small groan as he dug into his to-go box. The burger wasn’t really warm at that point, but it was filling, and he was nearly done by the time Fitz emerged with a box of crackers and a beer and plopped down next to him.

  “You can have the rest of this if you want it,” Ronan offered.

  Fitz shook his head. “Nah. Birdie brought in these giant burritos, and I’m still full from lunch. Just the munchies.”

  Ronan raised a brow. “Are you high?”

  “Dude.” Fitz stretched his feet out on the coffee table and rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to make Chief. I’m not going to smoke weed. Why…you have any?”

  Ronan elbowed him, and for a second, felt normal. He shuddered out a small sigh and pulled his arm back when Fitz grinned. “How are things?”

  “Same shit, different day.” Fitz cracked the top of the beer and tossed the cap onto the table. “Things with Chance are all right.”

  “Is it serious?” he asked. He didn’t want Fitz to know he’d been keeping tabs on him.

  Fitz snorted a laugh, choking on his swallow. “God, no. I mean, I like him. He’s hot as fuck and really good in bed.” He stopped and shrugged. “Sorry if that’s TMI.”

  Ronan felt a sudden, burning urge to just forget everything that ever happened between them and go back to the way it was before the fire. “I’ve never cared.”

  “Okay.” Fitz cleared his throat.

  “I do care,” Ronan said after a beat of silence. “I mean, I care that you’re happy. I’m…he seems nice.”

  “Jesus Christ, dude.” Fitz leaned forward to set the crackers and beer down, then he turned and grabbed Ronan’s hand. He knew then it was a deliberate touch. His scarred hand, stiffer than his other one, clung to his. He was forcing Ronan to acknowledge it. “Things are good. Okay? And I fucking miss you, asshole.”

  Ronan’s throat went tight again. He felt like he was careening out of control from his emotions, tumbling over a cliff he didn’t want to go over. He closed his eyes and breathed, and Fitz still didn’t let him go. “I don’t know how to go back.”

  “We don’t need to go back, but you were my best fucking friend, and I don’t care how many years have passed. Okay? You’re family. You didn’t even tell me when your parents died!”

  Ronan winced, but in all honesty, he hadn’t told anyone. They were both in a care home, they died within a month of each other, and there was nothing anyone could have done. But in hindsight, having Fitz there to let him just feel—to cry it out, to accept the loneliness that came from being orphaned, even halfway into his twenties—it might have helped.

  “I didn’t know how.” His voice was barely a whisper, but Fitz heard him.

  “I’m not going to ask you to act like someone you aren’t, but I am going to tell you that I’m coming back here.” Fitz held on even tighter. “You don’t get to do this anymore, okay?”

  Ronan swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. Yes. Okay.”

  Fitz carefully withdrew his hand, but he didn’t move away. He sat there with his side pressed to Ronan’s, and their feet knocking into each other on the table. “Parker’s a doctor now.”

  Ronan couldn’t stop his whole-body wince. “Oh?” But he knew that. He was a hermit, but he had the internet. He had access to social media, and to Parker’s photos of him with men and with women. At the hospital, on vacation, at random bars. He knew Parker was happy, and that he’d moved on.

  Fitz let out a sigh. “Yeah. He’s almost done with his residency. I go see him every so often, and he’s been checking out this practice in Connecticut. It’s so fucking far.”

  Ronan closed his eyes against the fresh wave of pain he had no right to feel. “I can’t believe he did it. I thought for sure he’d get high and fall off someone’s roof and get expelled.”

  Fitz laughed and shook his head. “I think he actually did that first part, but no one noticed. But man, he’s good. Like, he’s good at this doctor stuff.”

  That was not a surprise to him at all. Parker had been mouthy and an asshole and often times cruel to anyone who crossed him. But he was also good at taking care of people, and he was fiercely loyal. “I’m proud of him.”

  “You should tell him,” Fitz urged.

  Ronan closed his eyes and shook his head. “He won’t want to hear from me now. Not after…” Not after graduation night. Not after he promised to walk away from Ronan and never look back. “…it’s been too long.”

  “It has. And yet, here I am.”

  He didn’t know how to explain to Fitz that it wasn’t the same without telling him everything—and without Parker giving his consent, he couldn’t do it. And honestly, he wasn’t sure he was ready himself. He wasn’t sure he was ready to admit the truth about not just the fact that he had always wanted Parker. That he’d never stopped.

  “I don’t think I’m ready yet.” It was the closest to honesty he could get right then, and Fitz let him have it.

  He just let out a small grunt to acknowledge him, then settled into the sofa deeper. With the warm press of his friend beside him, Ronan felt as close to peace as he had in years. Since before the fire. His eyes closed, and he felt sleep clawing at him again. With Fitz right there, he finally let go.

  Chapter Five

  “Oh, this is a bad idea. This is a colossally stupid fucking idea.” Parker reached above him to curl his hooks around the wired frame, his hand burying itself in Alex’s hair. Alex groaned, opening his mouth wider, Parker fucking into it harder. When his light blue eyes looked up, Parker came.

  “Jesus,” Alex said, swiping his hand over his mouth.

  Parker sighed, then leaned in toward the door to listen, but the room was as silent as it had been when he’d gone in for a nap. “I’m so going to get caught.”

  “It can’t be worse than Easter,” Alex reminded him, and that wasn’t a lie.

  Parker hadn’t been busted, but he had been rushed into the ER when his protot
ype prosthetic hand had gotten stuck. It had wedged up his ass after he convinced Reg, one of his other partners, to try and finger him open with it. The hand had been removed, and Parker had bowed to a round of applause and knew they all kept the x-rays.

  He couldn’t get fired for that, but fucking Alex in the closet when he was on shift and meant to be sleeping during his break would probably at least get him a reprimand, if not worse. But he was horny and tired and hungry.

  He hadn’t really wanted a closet blowjob when Alex showed up. He wanted a good orgasm, a hot meal, and full night’s sleep. He never slept well on his shifts, and even the tacos Alex brought over were no substitute for actual food—but the sex…that was as hot in the closet as it was anywhere they fucked, so it took the edge off some of his needs.

  “Are you off this weekend?” Alex asked as he pushed to his feet. He straightened his collar, then tucked his shirt back in as Parker pulled his scrubs back up to his hips.

  “Uh, I have a couple of meetings on Saturday but I’m off. I’m on call Sunday. Why?”

  “My friend is having a birthday party over at that club, Ridge. I uh…I thought it might be fun. You could meet some of them.” Alex glanced away, likely knowing what Parker was going to say, because meeting friends was not their thing. They’d been fucking for a while—Parker going back on his love ‘em and leave ‘em motto for Alex and a couple of other guys. But while Reg and Matt seemed happy to keep it booty-call only, Alex tended to sneak in dates and sleepovers.

  And Parker didn’t mind—at least, not at first, but the birthday invite was tacit proof that he was going places Parker didn’t want to go. “Look…”

  “I get it,” Alex said, his voice tight and frustrated. “You don’t really like me, you don’t want to date me, you don’t want to marry me. You’re moving once your residency is over…”

  “You knew this when we got involved,” Parker told him. After the whole stripper thing, he had never lied to Alex again, not once. He did like the guy, and maybe in another life he’d be willing to be more, to do more. But Parker’s heart wasn’t in it. He felt a wash of guilt knowing he should have ended it months ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to. “I don’t know what you want from me.”