Past Hurts (Sizzling Miami Book 1)

by Jessie G

  “Davin?” He tried again as he opened the door and got a gentle snore in response. Unsure what else to do, he stretched across Davin’s big body to unhook the seatbelt and found himself pinned instead.

  “Don’t touch me!” Davin jolted awake and grabbed his arm, twisting sharply and then yanking hard enough to cause them both to grunt. For a moment, they were both stunned by the impact as he fell into Davin’s chest, lost his footing, and slammed his knees into the door frame.

  Cursing silently, it took him another second to catch his breath enough to whisper, “It’s just me. Davin, it’s Ric. I’m not going to hurt you.” Turning his head to make sure Davin could see his face, he ignored the pull on his arm and assured, “You’re safe.”

  “Shit.” Sunglasses skewed in the scuffle, Davin ripped them off, and then just blinked at him as if trying to decide if he was real. “Ric?”

  “That’s right.” In contrast to his screaming body, Alaric kept his voice calm and even as he promised, “I’m here and you’re safe.”

  “Fuck.” As quickly as he grabbed him, Davin let go, unbalancing Alaric even more, but he didn’t make any attempt to right himself. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Easing back cautiously, he saw the panic and regret in those expressive eyes and had to fight the urge to lean in for a kiss. Once upon a time, all it would take was a kiss to get Davin to give over the emotions that weighed him down. “You’re okay.”

  Davin shook his head in denial, in self-recrimination, and asked, “Did I hurt you?”

  “You wouldn’t.” Alaric could only imagine what Davin thought when he woke up to find someone leaning over him and it was shortsighted not to think he would defend himself.

  “But I did.”

  “No.” Throwing caution to the wind, Alaric brushed that harsh mouth with his own, putting all the tenderness and assurance he could muster into the gesture. Davin didn’t push him away, which seemed like a good sign, but he also didn’t reciprocate. “It’s okay to let go, Dav.”

  “I can’t.”

  What could he say? Much like the pain in his body, that rejection was his fault too. “I’m going to ease back and then we’ll get you to bed.”

  “I need to shower first.”

  “All right.”

  Davin followed quietly as Alaric guided them inside and down the hall to his bedroom. It was a big house with plenty of rooms to choose from, but even if Davin said he wanted to be alone, Alaric would still want him in this one. His detective belonged in his space, with or without him, and that’s all there was to it.

  He kept going until they were in the adjoining bathroom, all too aware of Davin’s weighted gaze as he turned on the shower, gathered up clean towels, and then went back to test the water temperature. Assured that it was comfortable, Alaric met that gaze head on, wondered when he became a glutton for punishment, and asked, “Will you let me take care of you?”

  It would be a new experience for them both. During the course of their relationship, they had their own ways of taking care of each other, but the overt gestures had never come from him. Davin once called him their foundation—strong and solid and dependable in an always there but never seen sort of way. Alaric had taken it as a compliment and took pride in his role because he didn’t need anyone except Davin to notice. To know that he was loved and cherished and safe.

  Those were still things Alaric wanted to give him, and if that required a grand gesture, then that’s what he’d do.

  “This is crazy.”

  ‘This’ could have referred to his offer, their current circumstances, or the fact that they were together at all, and it didn’t matter because they all boiled down to the same thing. “Why is it crazy? You need help and I’m offering.”

  “Why are you offering?” Beyond weary, Davin slumped against the wall, scrubbed a hand over his face, and whispered, “And why did you kiss me?

  “You know why.” A lot had changed in the eight years they’d been apart, but his reasons never did.

  “I’m too tired for cryptic answers.”

  “To be honest? Seeing you like this—exhausted, beaten down, and refusing to help yourself—I want to fix it. I have to fix…all of it. Everything. Anything you need.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. We can figure out my limits later.” Considering he didn’t have any, it would be a short conversation. “For now, let me do this one thing for you.”

  “All right. We can try it. But only because I can’t seem to get moving.”

  Satisfied, Alaric crouched and lifted the hem of Davin’s jeans until the gun was visible, then pulled it out of the boot pocket to set on the vanity. That done, he removed boots, peeled away sweaty socks, and then reached up to open his jeans. Setting aside every intimate moment they shared, he remained focused to the point of clinical as he bared Davin from the waist down and pushed aside the discarded clothes. That done, he stood to unhook the shoulder harness and carefully set the second weapon on the vanity beside the first.

  “Lift your arms for me.”

  Davin complied instantly and seeing those heavily muscled arms in the air nearly knocked the breath from Alaric’s lungs. How could this warrior look so imposing and so defeated at the same time?

  “You’ll take care of my guns?”

  “I’ll put them in the safe right now.”

  Voice muffled as Alaric tugged the shirt over his head, Davin added, “And my badge? It’s in my back pocket.”

  “I’ll get it.” Kneeling to gather all the discarded clothes—and to avoid the visual of a fully naked and vulnerable Davin—Alaric nodded toward the shower. “In you go.”

  “I need…”

  “I’ll get everything you need.” Alaric had no doubt Davin’s list of needs was long. The problem was his own needs, which were desperately trying to make themselves known at the worst possible moment. “Just get in there.”

  Without looking back, Alaric took Davin’s things to the bedroom and emptied the pants pockets onto the dresser before dumping the clothes in the laundry basket. Next, he placed the guns and holsters in the safe along with Davin’s cell phone, wallet and keys. He used the time to get his body under control, but there was nothing he could do for his racing mind.

  Was he pushing too hard? Yes, probably. Would it backfire on him? No doubt. Could he stop? Not unless Davin asked him to and that was a problem. Davin wasn’t thinking clearly enough to make the right decision or to know if he was making the wrong one. That meant it was on Alaric to do the right thing and the right thing was to leave Davin alone until he was capable of deciding what came next. That’s what a good man would do.

  If he was really the man Davin once believed in, that’s exactly what Alaric should do.

  “Ric? Are you coming back?”

  Should, but couldn’t. Instead, he retraced his steps until he spied Davin standing under the hot water—naked, wet, and waiting. “What’s wrong?”

  When he shrugged and ducked his head, looking lost and alone, Alaric knew he was fucked. Completely fucked. Knowing didn’t stop him from shucking his own clothes, leaving them where they fell, and stepping under the spray with him.

  “Can I help?”

  “Yeah…uh. You said…” Confused. Davin was confused and he was the asshole for not walking away. “Didn’t you say…?”

  Unable to formulate a response, Alaric grabbed the loofa and lathered it up with his favorite soap. Too late, he realized Davin was about to smell like him and that was going to trigger a whole other issue he really didn’t need to deal with. And there was nothing he could do but move the loofa over that big hulking frame, tracing every defined line, and try to convince himself this wasn’t the realization of eight years’ worth of fantasies.

  “You really are going above and beyond.” Davin’s voice was curiously distant as Alaric knelt to scrub his legs and feet. Even standing under the hot water, Davin’s skin was unbearably cold, so he took
his time rubbing life back into each limb. “Usually, I’m the one on my knees.”

  “Extenuating circumstances.” If there had been an ounce of teasing in Davin’s tone, Alaric would have responded differently, but that confusion was killing him. “Don’t get used to it.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  Alaric faltered as the finality of those words washed over him. Was Davin already writing this off as a one-shot deal instead of seeing it as a possible new beginning?

  “I think I’m worse off than usual.”

  At this point, it was safe to say they both were. “Why?”

  “Well, you just scrubbed my cock and balls, and I don’t think it even twitched.”

  “Hmm.” Since Davin’s cock was impressively erect, he didn’t think either of them were having a problem in that area. “I must be losing my touch.”

  “It’s probably just me.”

  “Stop talking and turn around.” Everything about this conversation was making him itchy and Alaric didn’t like the way Davin jumped to assume blame for something that wasn’t true and wouldn’t have been his fault if it was.

  Completely unaware of the turmoil he was causing, Davin turned and braced his arms on the shower wall. Then he laughed. He fucking laughed and said, “Don’t grab my ass.”

  “You’re in no condition to stop me.” Tempting as the taunt was, Alaric didn’t grab it, but he did wash it and if he took his time, well, that was just too damned bad. “Okay, let’s get you dried off and into bed.”

  “Wait.” Davin flipped around and grabbed his hands before Alaric could turn off the water.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I…just for a second.” Davin stepped closer, tugged Alaric’s hands until they were on his waist, and then rested his forehead on Alaric’s shoulder. “Please, just for a sec.”

  Shock didn’t stop Alaric from pulling him closer until he had Davin wrapped up tight. “I’ve got you, Dav.”

  Davin’s arms came up, hands clutching desperately as he turned his face into the curve of Alaric’s neck. “I just need a second.”

  “It’s good, you’re good.” If need be, they would stand there all day, but after a minute of burrowing against him, Davin pulled away and ducked his head. Was he ashamed? There was no way Alaric could let that go. “Davin, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I…can I go to bed now?”

  “Look at me first.” As much as he wanted to give in to that plea, Alaric wasn’t moving until he was certain Davin understood. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “You know why I’m here and if you need a hug from me or anything else, just ask. Okay?”

  “Yes, Ric.”

  Annoyed, he reached out and gripped Davin by the hair, tugging his head up. He still looked beaten down and exhausted, but there was a new fire in his eyes. Anger, probably, and maybe some mix of other emotions neither of them were ready to tackle. Didn’t matter what it was, Alaric was just glad to see signs of life.

  “Mean it, Dav. Say it and mean it or don’t fucking say it at all.”

  “So fucking bossy.”

  “So fucking stubborn.”

  Alaric let him go to shut off the shower and then stepped out to grab some towels. In silence, he dried Davin, then himself, and then led them to the bedroom where Davin all but fell onto the mattress. He tossed the towels in the basket and lay down on his back, pulling up the blankets to tuck them in. Almost immediately Davin rolled over and curled into him, sighing when he wrapped him close.

  “Yes, Ric.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Davin

  Despite the devastating adrenaline drop that left him vulnerable, Davin hadn’t been so far gone that he didn’t know where he was or who he was with. He supposed he should be ashamed of how easily he let Alaric take over, but he couldn’t muster that emotion. It had been so long since someone wanted to take care of him, and while he knew better than to get used to it, he wasn’t sorry it happened. Now, alone in Alaric’s big bed, he tried to figure out how long he’d been asleep.

  Every time was different, and he never knew if he was going to be out of it for a few hours or a few days. Then he began the process of putting his broken pieces back together. Despite being a good cop, Davin knew the job was killing him. Carving him up case by case and it was getting harder to contain the bleeding. Yet, no matter how many times he thought about quitting, all it took was one look into the traumatized eyes of another victim and his need for justice would override everything else.

  “You’re awake.”

  He tracked Alaric as he walked across the room—eyeing the pajama bottoms which rode low on defined hip bones—until the bed sagged beside him. Of all the cuts inside him, Alaric’s was the deepest and never seemed to stop hemorrhaging. Eight years hadn’t diminished a single feeling: not the love and not the pain.

  “I think so.” For all he knew, this could all be an elaborate dream and he’d wake up alone in his empty apartment longing for something he couldn’t have. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “About forty-eight hours, give or take.”

  “Sorry, I’m sure you had better things to do.”

  “Well, actually, I needed the sleep, too. Not quite forty-eight hours, but your down time gave me the opportunity to air out the house and pick up supplies.” When Alaric reached out to brush the hair from his eyes, Davin was surprised by his own lack of reaction. Over the years, he’d learned to tolerate certain touches—a handshake from a coworker, a slap on the back from his boss—but he usually had some warning and a second to brace himself. With Alaric, there had been no warning, no bracing, and no flinching. “You look better.”

  “I feel better.” No surprise there. Alaric had always taken very good care of him until…well, until he didn’t. “What do we need supplies for?”

  “We could hardly disappear for two weeks without some essentials.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked that of you.” It was one thing to let Alaric help him when he couldn’t help himself and another to impose. “A little bit of food and I’ll be fine. We can go back anytime. I don’t want to take you away from anything important.”

  “You didn’t take me anywhere. I did the driving and fine is such a bullshit word.” Arms folded, face set in determined lines, Alaric added, “We’re not going anywhere until you’re whole.”

  I’ll never be whole again, don’t you see? He couldn’t say that though. Alaric had already dug in and his need to fix everything would make him impossible to shake if Davin showed any more weakness. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but if this is some guilt-driven need to make amends then please, just take me home. You’re absolved. I don’t hate you or blame you for what happened.”

  “Oh, I’m absolved, am I?” Alaric stood and glared down at him. “It’s not going to be that easy to get rid of me.”

  “Why? After all these years, why does it matter now?”

  “You promised me a conversation.”

  “I also promised you an ass kicking.”

  “Well, that’s why, then. After all that, if you still want to go home, I’ll take you.”

  “Fine, which should we do first?” Davin rolled out of bed and considered his lack of clothing. “Seriously?”

  Alaric shrugged and grabbed a second pair of pajama bottoms off the dresser, tossing them across the bed. “We arrived with nothing but the clothes on our back and yours desperately needed washing.”

  “Well, that’s what happens when you work around the clock.” Once covered, he squared his shoulders and asked defiantly, “So, which should we do first? Talk or fight?”

  “We should eat. You’re still pathetically weak. I want you in top form or it won’t be any fun.”

  The retreat was so unlike the Alaric he knew, Davin couldn’t resist taunting, “Running away?”

  “If that’s what you want to believe.” Alaric shrugged and turned for the hallway.

  “My
guns?”

  “In the safe behind the Dali along with everything that was in your pockets. You know the code.”

  With no choice, he followed Alaric out of the room and took in his surroundings. The overall feel of the home was still familiar, but there were enough changes that he wasn’t sure. “This is your parents’ house on the beach, right?”

  “Sanibel, yes.”

  As Alaric headed for the kitchen, Davin continued through the living room and out the open patio doors. He grew up in Miami and had been to plenty of beaches, but this quiet stretch of sand seemed more beautiful. Stars twinkled in every direction and a quarter moon shimmered over the water, and as he sank down in a lounge chair, he wondered what it would be like to run there.

  Alaric handed him a glass. “Drink.”

  “Trying to get me drunk?”

  “That’s it exactly. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  Taking a tentative sip, Davin realized it was iced green tea and frowned. A few years ago, he tried the tea for the first time after being told by a doctor to cut back on his coffee intake. But there was no reason for Alaric to know his new preference.

  As important as the Bennetts were in Miami society, it had been painfully easy to follow Alaric’s life. Through no fault of his own, Davin knew Alaric had joined the family business full-time after earning his master’s degree and that he had recently taken over completely. He knew when Alaric signed a lucrative contract with the federal government and who he’d taken to the South Beach Film Festival. Yet, even with all that available information, he had no idea what Alaric liked to drink.

  On the flip side, Davin’s name only appeared in the paper if he made an arrest. No one cared about his career goals, the last time he saw a movie, or who he slept with. Twisting around in the seat, he turned to watch Alaric approach with their dinner. “Are you having me followed?”

  The man’s step didn’t falter under the accusation, nor did he look sheepish or apologetic at getting caught. Instead he went with arrogant. “Not recently, but yes, I was having you followed.”