Digging Deep

by Jay Hogan

  I snorted. “I know, shock, horror, right? But it’s the truth. I really was into him and all this romance shit, was even enjoying it. Then some hard stuff happened in his life and he kind of sent me packing, though not in so many words. And now, well I’m thinking maybe I had a close call. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this relationship thing.”

  For a second Daniel said nothing, just stared like he was running the truth of what I’d said through his bullshit filter. I’d have been insulted if it wasn’t for the fact he was usually right about me. I had a well-earned A-plus in bullshit.

  “So, you broke up?”

  I shrugged. “Fucked if I know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” he said with a frown.

  “Just what I said. I don’t know what we are right now.”

  He cast his eyes upward. “Give me strength. Okay, I’ll need to hear it from the top. Define ‘hard stuff’ for a start.”

  I blew out a sigh and resigned myself to telling him the whole story. “Resistance is futile” was a phrase invented with Daniel in mind. He said not a word during the entire recounting, which I suspected surprised even himself. But all good things come to an end, right?

  After a few minutes silence when I was done, he finally spoke. “And so you left and haven’t spoken to him since?”

  I was gonna kill the fucker. “What part of being not wanted did you not understand? He’d been through hell. He’d lost a freaking baby, the mother wouldn’t talk to him, and his Crohn’s was flaring. He wanted, needed to be alone. It was his call and rightly so. We’re still too new. I didn’t—”

  “Stop.”

  “What?” I threw up my hands.

  He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his eyes carried a softer expression. “Okay. I hear you. And I get you probably did the only thing you could at the time. But you’re still an infant in the whole boyfriend thing, so I’m gonna give you some advice….”

  What a surprise. I sank farther in my seat.

  He snapped his fingers in my face. “Pay attention.”

  I did because—drag queen. I was pissed but I wasn’t stupid.

  He gave me the once-over. “As I was saying, you’re new to the whole boyfriend thing…”

  I could stab myself in the eyes with a fork and inflict less pain.

  “… and I think you’ve missed something vital about the whole concept.” He paused dramatically.

  I groaned. “Go on, put me out of my misery. What did I miss?”

  He smirked and poured two more shots. “Drink.”

  I stared at the glass, knowing it wasn’t a smart idea. Daniel had drunk me under the table more than once growing up. It was part of that whole woo-woo, spooky-juju-shit thing he had going on. Fuck it. I clicked glasses and downed the shot in a second.

  “I’m glad you asked.” He sucked a breath through clenched teeth against the burn of the tequila. “You missed the part about there being two in the relationship. The term ‘boyfriend’ automatically denotes a second individual to whom the first is intimately connected…”

  Forget my eyes, I’d stab myself in the balls. That would at least end things faster.

  “… Two people, Caleb. Deux. Rua. Dos. Not one. And in a relationship… would you like me to spell that for you?”

  I growled, “Don’t push it, mate.”

  He smiled indulgently. “Well, in a relationship, one partner doesn’t get to make all the relationship decisions about—” He waved a hand in the air. “—shit.”

  I snorted. “Very technical.”

  “Whatever. The point is, Drake’s hurting—emotionally, professionally, and physically. He’s shocked, grieving, angry, guilty, and sick. In what universe, Caleb Ashton—” He tapped a finger against my forehead. “—do you let a boyfriend, in this state, push you away and then just trust they’ll be just fine? You’re a cop, you know how people can be when they’re stressed and shocked, you’ve seen it.”

  Something twisted uneasily in my chest. “But he didn’t want me there….” He didn’t. “I wanted to stay, to take the day off, but he said it would be easier without me.”

  “Easier for you too, right?” Daniel eyed me knowingly.

  Ouch. The question rode too close to the truth. “He said he didn’t want me to see him like that, that I was a….” Goddammit. “That I was a fucking distraction.” And yeah, it still hurt.

  A pang of sympathy shot through Daniel’s expression, and he reached for my hand. “I get it. And I’m sorry for being such a judgmental bitch. You two are pretty new at the couple thing, and he told you to go, so you did. You were respecting his boundaries, as you should. Not much you can do when it’s that clear, and you weren’t leaving him alone, after all. He had Aaron.”

  A sigh broke my lips. “He did. But I wanted it to be me.”

  Daniel squeezed my hand. “Of course you did. I don’t think there’s any right or wrong here. It’s hard to be there when someone doesn’t want you to be, and Daniel wasn’t exactly making it easy for you. I guess it’s a taster of what you might have to battle if you decide you want him bad enough, right?”

  It was a hard truth but one I needed to hear. “Yeah. His life sucks at times. I can’t imagine how he does it. Not sure I could.”

  “Yes, you could. And you’d probably manage by being an equally prickly bastard.”

  A chuckle rumbled in my throat. “Worse, I imagine. I guess I feel like I need to prove myself to him. I want him to take me seriously.”

  A hand patted my thigh. “You have nothing to prove. He just needs time to see you the way I do. You’re enough as you are, Cal.”

  He lifted my head and shoved another shot under my nose. “Here, take your medicine but maybe sip it this time.”

  There was little point arguing, so I did as I was told, and pondered what I’d ever done in my life to deserve the friendship of the man next to me. Not nearly enough, that was for sure.

  Daniel snaked an arm around my shoulders and drew me close as I sipped at the tequila. A kiss pressed into my hair.

  “When Pete and I first met,” he said, “I knew he was special. It wasn’t love at first sight or anything. I mean, let’s face it, the drag world hardly covets my baby’s style, right?”

  I snorted and tequila flew from my nose. Daniel laughed and wiped my face with his T-shirt, regarding me fondly. He added quietly, “He wasn’t into me; did you know that?”

  Now that was news. I frowned up at him. Daniel didn’t often show his vulnerable side. “No. You’ve never said much at all about the start of you guys. I just assumed….”

  “That he’d gone to one of my shows, been dazzled by my gorgeousness, and then chased me while I dangled him until I finally saw through the ordinary exterior to the wonderful man he was?” Daniel’s eyes slid away.

  “Well, yeah… something like that, I guess.”

  Everyone had thought that. Their mismatched romance had given the K Road gossip hounds an indecent amount of mileage. People literally took bets on how long it would last, none of them pushing past a month or two at the most before Carmen dropped Pete’s sorry arse back into the kingdom of ordinary. Everyone was shocked, including me, when they got engaged and doubly so when it became apparent their relationship was not only exclusive but a genuine old-fashioned love match to boot.

  Daniel chuckled. “Most people thought the same, and I kind of… let them. I’m not proud of it, and I really need to redress that someday, but, yeah, it wasn’t like that at all. I’d actually met him months before anyone knew, including you.” He sent me an apologetic half smile. “I first saw Pete in a supermarket… in the canned goods aisle….”

  I bit back a smile. “Really?”

  Daniel nodded. “He wanted nothing to do with me,” he said flatly.

  I would’ve laughed in disbelief, but my jaw was too busy dragging on the floor. “He… said that?” I finally choked out.

  Daniel blushed. He fucking blushed
.

  “Yeah,” he said shyly. “He said I wasn’t his… style.”

  Christ I was gonna need therapy after this.

  Daniel smiled. “I know, right? I’m everyone’s style, honey. But not, apparently, his. Or at least not then.”

  “But how…? Why…? God I can’t even think right now,” I stammered and pointed to the bottle. “I’m gonna need another one of those.” Daniel obliged, leaving his own glass empty. Pete had walked away from Carmen? Daniel? Which reminded me… “Did he turn down Carmen or Daniel?”

  “Both.”

  Another shocker. I could maybe get with the idea of Pete not being initially comfortable with a take-no-prisoners drag queen, but Daniel, Carmen’s alter ego, was a gorgeous, sweet man… mostly… on a good day.

  Daniel explained, “I ran into him with my trolley ’cause I had my headphones on singing along with Beyoncé and wasn’t watching what I was doing. I was wearing that silver Greta Garbo dress and those Chanel shoes, the blue ones, the ones….”

  “With the four-inch platforms?”

  He grinned. “Right. Those. Anyway, I hit him and promptly toppled over amongst the green beans and creamed sweet corn and… he caught me.”

  “Ah, how romantic.”

  “Hardly. I pushed him off, too pissed off about my snapped heel. I was really rude, bitching about him clogging up the aisle and ambushing helpless shoppers.”

  I bit my lip. It was so… Carmen. “I take it he wasn’t impressed?”

  “He told me to get over myself and stop being such a dramatic tart. That I needed to rip the headphones off and find some manners. Then he left me with a shoe in each hand and fucking love birds chirping around my damn head.”

  Now I did laugh. I could just imagine Carmen being gobsmacked by anyone taking her to task.

  He raised a brow. “Laugh it up, sweetheart. Your turn is coming. Anyway, I did what any self-respecting queen would do and stalked him around the rest of his supermarket shop, out into the car park, and then followed him home, where I propositioned him on his front door step.”

  Wow. Out of the ballpark. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  He blushed… again. “I know, right? I spent most of my life running from any relationship, happy to hit and split, tap it and scrap it, fending off all kinds of men who wanted more, many of whom gave new meaning to the words built and gorgeous and oh-my-fucking-God, hot. And here I was chasing after some short, slightly paunchy, pissed-off average-looking accountant type, who shopped in Pak’nSave and drove a fucking ten-year-old Toyota.”

  I reached for Daniel’s hand and squeezed softly. “So why did you?”

  He lifted our hands and kissed the back of mine. “At the time I couldn’t have explained it. I was just fascinated by him. Probably because he wasn’t remotely sucked in by me. He had my number from the outset, and I think I just felt seen, for want of a better word, even if not in a good way. He wasn’t afraid to call me on my bullshit, and in my line of work that’s a rare thing. He’s no one’s fool, and he isn’t shy about saying what he feels. He’s confident in who he is and what he wants, and I found, find, the whole package irresistibly sexy.”

  He glanced away shyly. This was a side of Daniel I barely knew existed and hadn’t seen since those uncertain teenage years. Right then I understood just how important and special Pete was to Daniel. Daniel needed a safe heart space that could hold all of who he was without judgement but also where he could shed all his defences and just be himself. On rare occasions he’d let me be that person for him and it had been a privilege.

  “I envy what you have,” I said honestly, and for the first time I truly did.

  Daniel studied me for a minute. “Pete is kind, genuinely kind. That day as I followed him around on his supermarket shop, he was unfailingly polite and interested in people. He talked with the butcher, laughed with the wine stockist, and helped an old woman reach a packet of crackers on the top shelf. It was like watching an episode of the fucking Waltons. I was almost convinced he couldn’t be real. The cashier flirted with him and he just blushed and brushed it off. I knew he was gay, I think I’d known it from his first words to me. I mean, how many straight guys call another man a ‘tart’?”

  He had a point. “So what happened when you propositioned him on his front doorstep?”

  Daniel’s gaze fixed on something over my right shoulder. “He turned me down… more than once.”

  His gaze flicked back, and I arched a brow.

  He ducked his head and blushed… again. Holy shit. Two blushes in as many minutes? No one would’ve taken that bet.

  “Yeah. Not exactly something I admit to many people,” he said coyly. “But of course, that just made the man even more irresistible. He had the impression I was a bit… precious, imagine that—”

  I cocked my head and he poked his tongue out at me.

  “—and he thought I might be a bit high-maintenance, overly dramatic even… on occasion. Ridiculous, right?” He eyed me with a wicked grin. “Anyway, whatever the reason, he wanted nothing to do with me, said I was trouble with a capital T, and his life needed that like it needed a fucking disco ball.”

  I choked on my tongue. “Apt metaphor.”

  Daniel smirked. “True. But who doesn’t benefit from a bit of sparkle and glitter, right?”

  “Riiiight.” I popped my empty glass on the coffee table so he couldn’t see my smile, and turned to face him. “So how did you win him over?”

  He blew out a loaded sigh and sunk back into the couch. “By working my fucking butt off to convince him I was worth taking a chance.”

  “News flash, I’ve done that part,” I pointed out, turning sideways to face him and tucking a dark curl behind his ear.

  “Yeah, but you lack staying power. It took me four months to get Pete to agree to a first date.”

  My eyes popped.

  “Right? And I had to fight him every step of the way. If you ask him now, he’ll tell you he was interested in me from the start, but he was scared I wouldn’t be serious. He didn’t want to be just another notch on my bra strap, so to speak. Fuck, if I’d known what a hellcat the man was in bed, I could’ve told him not to worry his pretty little head about any of that.” He stared off dreamily.

  I might have squeaked. “TMI, dear friend. TMI. The less anyone knows about your exploits in the marital bed, the safer the universe remains.”

  He cleared his throat. “All I’m saying is that it doesn’t always come easily. Forget all the shit you see on the telly. Sometimes what’s best for you looks like anything but fate or true love. Sometimes the right guy seems like they don’t even want to know you, and you have to fucking muscle in on their lives and claim your space in it, show them what you’re made of. Especially if you’re a scary limelight-hog, drama drag queen like… God, who even knows someone like that? Or maybe a dyed-in-the-wool man-whore like, well… you.”

  “Hey, watch it,” I protested, lacking any heat. The man was right. In no one’s opinion including my own would I ever have been considered good boyfriend material. Not because I didn’t have it in me, but because I didn’t think that was what I wanted. Yeah, about that.

  “Have you heard anything from him?”

  I blew out a sigh. “One text. He said he was really sorry and that’s it.”

  He cradled my face and looked me in the eye, twenty-two years of friendship buried deep in those gorgeous baby browns. “Drake’s scared, sweetheart, and with good reason. It’s not just his heart on the line but his health too. If you let him push you away too easily, you just confirm everything he already fears about you. If you’re not into him, then by all means let him go. But if you think the two of you could be… more… then hell, you don’t get many chances in this life to have something special… take my word on that.”

  “I could still screw it up.”

  “Odds aren’t in your favour, I’ll admit that.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Another
drink?”

  “Nah, I’ve had enough.”

  He topped up his own and relaxed back into the couch. “Did I ever tell you about the first time Pete and I fucked?”

  God help me. I held my glass out. “Hit that sucker.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Drake

  “ARE YOU done in there yet?” Joanne pounded on the door of the hospital bathroom. Getting assigned this sassy-mouthed nurse was the only thing to have gone my way since getting admitted. She’d even snagged me a single room opposite the bathrooms. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

  “Make that a no,” I answered, still scrolling through all Caleb’s texts, trying to summon the courage to send a reply, something more than just I’m sorry, the one text I had sent. I just wasn’t exactly sure what it was I wanted to say.

  Another wave of cramps ripped through my belly, and I doubled over, my gut squeezing like a fucking accordion. With each wave the pain shot down my legs as well, and what the fuck was with that? As if I didn’t have enough to deal with. “I might be a while yet.”

  “How’s the IV?”

  I glanced up at the litre bag of saline, now half-gone. “Fine. Five hundred in and counting. Though I think I just levelled the score in output. You might wanna put a room service sign on the door. And pass me my pillow while you’re at it.”

  She snorted. “I’ll check back soon, and if you’re nice to me, I’ll even give you an antispasmodic. There’s a new one out. Good reviews. I’ll get them to chart it for you.”

  “Oh my God, I’ll love you forever.” An effective antispasmodic could mean the difference between manageable pain and the crazy-house agony that had seen me admitted two days ago.

  Until then I’d been holding my own… mostly. That is, if holding my own included being unable to keep anything in, down, or under control, and barely able to stand, let alone get myself to the bathroom. My legs still shook like damn jelly, and I’d spent so much time on the toilet, I fully expected to see my stomach inside out, and dragging on the floor behind me.