Digging Deep

by Jay Hogan

  “Stay right there.” I pushed him to balance against the wall of the bathroom while I got the shower running. Then I cradled his face. “No, sweetheart, I’m not gonna fuck you. You’re drunk. You need to sleep.”

  He pouted adorably. “Not fair.”

  I kissed the corner of his lips, ignoring the suffocating wave of alcohol-saturated breath that came my way. Then I undressed him as carefully as I could, making a mental note to get the soiled clothes into a machine the second Drake was in bed. The last thing I wanted was for him to find them in the morning. He’d be mortified. Then I shed my own clothes and held him up as we waited for the water to heat.

  Drake stretched out a finger and ran it across my bare abs with a wicked grin. “I like you, Caleb Ashton. You know that?”

  I nodded and grabbed his hand before he got any ideas. “I like you too, Drake Park.”

  “Good. That’s good, right?” He grinned crookedly.

  “It is.” I lifted his hand to my lips and planted a kiss on the palm.

  “You have a pretty cock,” he commented, staring at my groin.

  Jesus, he was killing me here. “I’m glad you like it.” I muscled him into the shower and got in behind to hold him up. “Lean against the wall.” I pushed him gently, and he did, mostly… with a little help. And while the warm water cascaded over his body, I soaped him up and washed him clean, making sure to reach every crevice. He fell silent under my ministrations and let me work. Once clean, I sat him on the toilet to dry him, and he peppered me with kisses everywhere he could reach as I worked. Drunk or not, I found it incredibly sweet.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly as I dried his feet, and when I looked up, his cheeks were moist with tears.

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” I answered truthfully. He was a grown-arse man and if he wanted to get drunk after a shitty day, he could, Crohn’s or no Crohn’s.

  He went silent, worrying the corner of the towel I still held in my hands. Then he looked at me and the crushing grief I saw in his eyes cut me to the bone.

  “She died, Caleb.” Barely a whisper. “I tried, I really did, but she fucking died.”

  Oh Christ. The man was breaking my heart. “I know, sweetheart.” I pulled him against my chest as his body was wracked with sobs. “You did everything you could. It wasn’t your fault.”

  He said nothing, just held on to me as if his life depended on it, and when he finally went quiet, I walked him to his bed, laid a towel on the sheet, and tucked him up under the feather duvet. He didn’t stray an inch from where I laid him, and within seconds he was asleep. I stood over him for a long time, watching the tension little by little leach from his slim body until he appeared mostly peaceful. Then I placed a bucket by his bed, took up position in the armchair next to that, and pulled out a book.

  I fully expected him to be out for the night, but he slept only for a couple of hours at the most, waking with an agonised groan, clutching his stomach. Tossing my book aside, I helped him sit and handed him the bucket.

  He wrapped his arms around it, his gaze shooting sideways to me, less friendly this time. “What are you doing here?”

  Before I could answer, he was throwing up into the bucket as I tried to hold his silky black hair out of the way. He shouldered my hands away roughly. “Don’t. I’m okay.”

  Pissy snarky Drake, great. I’d take cute drunk Drake any day. “Drake, you’re not okay….”

  “Don’t baby me, I’m fine.”

  Fuck. “You were passed out on the floor, Drake. I had to break the door down. You were not fine.”

  He frowned and concern briefly flashed through his expression before it was shut down. “I had a drink or two, so what? I lost a baby last night, in case you forgot. I needed to escape for a bit. It’s no concern of yours, really. I said, I’m fine.”

  What the…? “It’s no concern of mine? I’m your boyfriend, Drake. It’s every fucking concern of mine. I care about you. And it was you who said alcohol is one of the worst things for your Crohn’s. You could have called me.”

  For a fleeting second, his expression softened before the walls bounced right back into place. “I appreciate you helping me out, I really do, but I want to be alone. I told you that this morning.”

  “This morning you weren’t comatose on the floor after drinking a shit-ton of booze. And don’t try and tell me your Crohn’s isn’t flaring right now ’cause I know it is.” Damn. Way to go, idiot.

  His eyes flew wide, and a red flush stained his cheeks. I went to take his hand and calm him down, but he pulled away.

  “I said, don’t,” he snapped. Then he caught sight of the towel and the pile of dirty clothes outside the bathroom door that I’d forgotten to put in the wash—fuck. The emotions that played over his face said it all. Horror, embarrassment, shame, anger.

  “I don’t want you…. I never asked you to clean up….” He didn’t finish the sentence needing instead to grab the bucket for another round of vomiting, this time streaked with blood. This was more than just the alcohol.

  Shit. I tilted the bucket for a better look. “Drake, that doesn’t look good….”

  He pushed my hand away. “What would you know about it? This is my life. I live this shit. I know when to worry and when not to. I can handle it… I just had too much to drink.” He fell silent, doubling over and rocking for a second.

  I couldn’t help but reach out a hand to stroke his back. “Drake, let me help. Please? I’m worried about you.”

  He shook his head but seemed to calm a little, even managing to look a little apologetic. “All right, so maybe I’m flaring a little, but it’s mostly just cramps. I have a routine I do when this happens. It works. But I can’t deal with any other… distractions. I really do need you to go.”

  Distractions? Is that what he thought I was? I tried to hide the sting of his words. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

  “Ah, fuck.” He shot unsteadily to his feet and lurched toward the bathroom.

  I was at his side in an instant. “Here, let me—”

  “No.” He elbowed me aside. “I said I’m fine.” He made it to the toilet and sat down, his head bowed in his hands. “Please, Caleb,” he said, not looking up. “Just leave me. I’ll call someone, I promise… ugh.” He moaned, grabbing at his stomach again.

  I took a step toward him, then stopped. Holy fuck. I had no clue what to do for the best. Drake was right about one thing: I knew nothing about any of this. He was the one who lived with Crohn’s. He knew what he had to do. He didn’t need me to be there or tell him what to do, even if I did want to help. And if staying meant I’d just stress him more, I wouldn’t do that to him. He was pushing me away, I was so fucking sure of it, but I just didn’t know if there was anything I could do to change that, not right at this moment.

  “Okay.” I sighed heavily. “You win. But I’m not leaving till you tell me who to call and I’m sure someone will be here, so just deal with it. Your mother?”

  “No.”

  He didn’t say anything more for a few seconds, and when he did, it was so soft I missed it the first time. “Who?”

  He sighed. “Aaron. Call Aaron. His number’s on the fridge list. He’s helped me before and… he’s on his days off.”

  Aaron. The BFF. It hit like a sucker punch, and it was all I could do to keep the hurt from my face. I could’ve understood his mother, his brother or sister even. But that he’d choose his best friend over me, the one who’d pulled him off the floor, cleaned him, and put him to bed felt like some kind of death knell. He didn’t want me here, he didn’t trust me with this part of his life. Had nothing had changed from that first coffee we’d shared? He still expected me to run. And the most fucked-up thing? Turned out it was him blowing me off when things got tough, not the other way around. And by the way he sat stiff and silent, staring at his hands, I knew I was right.

  “I have to do what’s best for me,” he said tersely, still not looking up. “Whatever is gonna get things under co
ntrol. I warned you, Caleb. I can’t put you first. This isn’t about you.”

  Nah, not buying it. He was running scared. He was grieving and shocked, and now his Crohn’s was flaring. He couldn’t escape those, but he could escape me. A thousand protests and pissy replies choked my throat, but I held on to them all. It wasn’t the time, and it was his call.

  I swallowed my pride and took a deep breath. “I’ll call Aaron and wait in the lounge till he comes. Promise you’ll call me.”

  “It might be a while.”

  So that was a big fat no. Goddammit.

  I was nearly out the bathroom door when he finally looked up. “I’m sorry, Caleb.”

  I shook my head in disappointment. “Yeah, me too.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Caleb

  “IF YOU check in your drawer, there’s bound to be a couple more toys in there you can toss out of your cot to join the others.” Leanne looked up from her desk and pinned me with an acid glare.

  Matt Riordan, the detective who sat behind her, sniggered, then covered it with a yawn. He was a hard-case guy, the office practical joker, but his wife had just given birth to their surprise third son and this morning he looked like he’d been ridden hard and put up wet. I shut him up with a scowl. Shame it didn’t work on my partner.

  “After all, I’d hate for you to miss out on the total-arsehole-of-the-day prize,” she said. “Meanwhile I’ll just keep trucking along here trying to ID the bloody van from this robbery last night. Don’t mind me.”

  Shit. She was right. I’d been bitching and whingeing about every goddamn thing all morning, or more accurately, for the last two days, since Drake had shoehorned me out of his house.

  I’d waited in Drake’s lounge until Aaron arrived, not able to bring myself to even check in on him again before passing the baton on. I’d been so bloody angry at the time, I was worried I might’ve said something I’d later regret. I was his boyfriend, or so I’d thought, but I clearly wasn’t far enough into his inner circle to be trusted to look after him. The fact it was Aaron taking my place just wound me tighter. Drake had every right to do what he needed to get himself better, I knew that. Just like I knew I was being a pissy adolescent sulking about it, but damn, it hurt.

  To be fair, Aaron himself had seemed somewhat embarrassed by the whole thing, and apologised on Drake’s behalf, saying that Drake got really particular when he was unwell and was probably just wanting to shield me from that side of himself. I hadn’t bought any of it, but it was nice of him to try. He’d even sent me a couple of text updates over the day. Nothing from my damn boyfriend, of course. I wasn’t even sure we still were boyfriends. That whole can of worms seemed to have been forgotten the minute he asked me to leave.

  “Sorry.” I threw up my hands and sunk back in my chair. “I’ve being a right prick, haven’t I?”

  She smirked. “Ya think? Whatever gave you that idea, Einstein?”

  “Might’ve been when you rolled your eyes out loud? The rattle woke me from my self-pity.”

  She snorted and threw a pen my way. I ducked and let it sail past, then picked it off the floor and offered it back. “So, how are things with you? The boss got back to you yet?”

  Her smile disappeared. “Okay, I guess. He said it’s just noted and filed. Promised it wouldn’t affect my promotion but….”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Better not to be noted at all, right?”

  She scooted down in her chair and sighed. “Yeah.”

  I leaned in. “Hey. Lift the lip. You’re a great detective, Leanne, and I don’t believe it’s gonna make the slightest bit of difference. The rest of that operation was spotless. It was just one of those things out of your control. You’ll nail that promotion. You’re the best partner I’ve had.”

  Her mouth quirked up a little at that. “Yeah?”

  I grinned. “Yeah. So if I promise to pull my head out of my arse, can we go get a coffee? My treat.” Batting eyelashes always helped, right?

  “Maybe.” She pointed the pen my way. “But only if you promise to spill what’s got your balls wound so tight they’re cutting off your good manners and any scrap of appeal you ever had.”

  Ugh. The last thing I wanted was to go through the whole disaster again. “Leanne….”

  “Nope. I’m your damn partner, and I’ve had to live with your sorry-arse misery for two days. I’m done. You’ll tell me or I will call Carmen.”

  Oh Lord. The last thing I needed was my best friend all up in my damn business. She already knew something was up when I bailed on coffee yesterday. She was up visiting her mother. Ignoring Carmen and Daniel’s follow-up phone calls had worked so far, but that strategy had a limited shelf life, and I expected an in-person offensive any minute.

  “You wouldn’t dare, and keep your voice down,” I hissed. “That woman has fucking bat ears. For all I know, she’s hiding out in the ficus behind Matt’s desk.”

  Leanne’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “That’s just… strangely plausible, actually.” She got up and went to check. “Clear,” she called, and the entire detective team turned to see what was going on. I could’ve sold fucking tickets.

  “Looking for Carmen,” she explained, louder than strictly necessary.

  Everyone nodded as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation. I smiled thinly. Most of Whangarei knew Carmen and the fact no one even batted an eye only served to prove my paranoia was justified.

  “Avoiding her, much?” Leanne sent me a wicked grin.

  “Not specifically,” I grouched.

  “Bullshit.”

  “Okay, maybe a little.”

  A sympathetic murmur circled the office. “See?” I said with a sweep of my hands. “Everyone understands.”

  “No, they don’t.” She eyeballed me with something resembling pity. “They’re just buttering you up ’cause they don’t want to be given shit jobs for the next week.”

  I scanned the faces of my fellow detectives. “Is that true?”

  Matt answered with a shit-eating grin. “Damn right.” He rolled his chair up and parked it alongside my desk. “We let Leanne take point ’cause we know she’d mince your balls for breakfast if you try that shit with her, but yeah, I for one would like to know the name of the stick that’s been crammed up your butt lately.” His rugged face crinkled up into a well-worn smile that did wonders for his baby blues. “And whether it has anything to do with a certain young midwife.” He winked.

  Son of a bitch. Police stations could give that Korean mama hotline a run for their money.

  “How the hell…?” My gaze shot to Leanne, who was earnestly studying the inside of her handbag. “Partner?”

  Her eyes met mine defiantly. “What? Everyone knew you arrested Drake and that he came back to ask you out for coffee. If I happened to mention you were seeing each other, well we’re all friends, right?”

  I barked out a laugh and eyeballed Matt. “Friends don’t send a half-ton of lube to the police station you work at on your thirty-fifth birthday via a courier, lip synching to ‘Slip Slidin’ Away’ by Simon and Garfunkel. Not to mention half of those boxes had busted open. Took me a week to clean up my desk, and I’m still finding slippery bits in my drawers.”

  Matt opened his mouth to offer some no-doubt lewd retort, but I shot him down. “Not. A. Word. Detective.”

  He stifled another yawn and my heart kind of went out to the guy. Three kids under six had to be a killer.

  “You gotta admit that was one of our better efforts,” he said.

  It was. I bit back a smile. “Just remember your fortieth is coming up in a few months.” His eyes flew wide and a few snickers broke the quiet. “Yeah, think on that, sunshine.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Just as long as you’re not the one ordering the flowers. I hear you have strange tastes.”

  “Matt, shut it,” Leanne snapped at the older detective.

  I slowly turned to my partner. “Goddammit, Leanne.”

  She batted her eyes at me and
shrugged. “It was cute.”

  I threw up my hands. “Oh for fuck’s sake. I give up. Come on, partner. And bring your wallet, ’cause I’m sure as fuck not buying after this.”

  While she grabbed her debit card, and the coat from the back of her chair, I approached Matt’s desk. “Hey. I hear there’s an uncomfortable but very quiet bed in one of the overnight rooms going free to a good home. Why don’t you take an early lunch break and get an hour or two shut-eye? We can do without you for a bit.”

  I swear Matt’s eyes nearly glazed over in eager anticipation. “Thanks, boss. I’ll, um, get right on that.”

  I nodded. “You do that. See you back here in two hours.”

  “You’re a life-saver.”

  “Yeah, well, remember that on my next birthday.”

  His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Maybe. But you still haven’t told us about Mr Midwife.”

  I hooked a thumb Leanne’s way. “I’m sure she’ll fill you in.”

  Leanne tut-tutted and tried to look offended. “O ye of little faith,” she said to me. Then over her shoulder to the others. “I’ll take notes.”

  LEANNE STIRRED her latte ever so slowly, avoiding my gaze. The police canteen was jammed to the rafters for some reason, leaving us to squeeze around a tiny table barely fit for one at the back.

  “That was a nice thing you did back there,” she said in a quiet voice. “With Matt, I mean.”

  “Hey, I’m a nice guy,” I joked.

  She covered my hand with hers. “You are, actually. Though you do your best to hide it.” She held my gaze.

  I nodded. “Thanks. He deserves to be cut a bit of slack, though, right?”

  “I personally think they’re crazy. Three kids? Not a chance for this woman.”

  “You don’t want kids?” It was something we’d never discussed and I wasn’t sure why.

  She thought on it for a minute. “One, maybe. I guess I don’t feel the mothering kind. At least not the three-kids-mothering kind. I’m an only child and I get the benefits of that. And I love my job. But who knows? Gotta snag me a sperm donor first, right?”