Reaching into the backpack, the kid drew out a black notebook. Well, mostly black. The cover looked worn and there was duct tape stuck here and there to keep it intact. Ollie's eyes widened.
"I think this belongs to you," the kid said, only taking a couple steps closer, eyes moving from Ollie to Dagen. Ollie didn't know what he'd see if he looked to the man beside him, he was too intent on the book in the kid's hands. His sketchbook.
"Who are you?" Ollie asked again, stepping forward and reaching out his hand.
"I was the new you."
They moved to the reception area of Open Wounds and got Niko, that was the kid’s name, settled on one of the couches with a bottle of water. Dagen knew Ollie was shaken without having to ask. He had a death grip on the sketchbook that proved to be the one Ollie had been missing and had barely taken his eyes off Niko since he’d taken the book from his hand.
Niko looked skittish, but he sat quietly, his eyes darting between Ollie and Vidar. Vidar was leaning against the wall next to the couch, and while he wasn’t staring intently at the other man, Vidar’s eyes continued to track back to him. Dagen wanted to go to Ollie and drag him into his arms.
“What happened?” Ollie blurted, breaking the awkward silence. “Why would you—”
“Travel halfway across the country to bring you a book?” Niko cut in, and his words had a sarcastic bite Dagen suspected he used like armor. He was sensing a pattern here. Two men who had fled the same culprit, bruised and wearing masks to hide themselves from the world. To protect themselves. One of which dug his way farther into Dagen’s heart with every passing day.
Ollie nodded.
Niko swallowed and set the bottle of water on the coffee table in front of him. “He was using your sketches. Especially the samurai ones.”
Ollie went pale. “Those—”
“Are amazing? Yeah, some of the best work I’ve ever seen. That’s how I knew they weren’t his and starting poking around until I figured out who they belonged to.” Niko lifted his hand to his bruised cheek. “He didn’t like that very much.”
“How long were you there?” Ollie sounded like a shell of himself, and Dagen was getting antsy. He needed to go throw some heavy shit around or something, so he wouldn’t be tempted to get on the next plane to Vegas and decimate the fucker responsible. Vidar looked to be of a like mind, his quiet intensity focused wholly on the two men conversing on the couch, but Dagen could see the tic of his jaw, one of the few tells that his brother was nearing the end of his control.
“Only a couple weeks. It was a nightmare, honestly. I don’t know what it was like when you were there, but every time the phone rang and someone asked for you, it was like he got a little more batshit.” Niko’s voice went quiet, and he looked only at Ollie. “He kept ranting about how you left him high and dry. I think he was on drugs.” Niko chewed on his lip. “Then when I refused to sleep with him, he hit me again, and I was gone.”
Dagen felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him. He looked at Ollie, but Ollie wouldn’t meet his eyes before he stood up quickly, and Niko startled beside him.
“Sorry,” Ollie said to the other man, then glanced at the rest of the room “I’m going to call it a night. Thank you for bringing this back to me. Um, do you have a place to stay?”
Niko opened his mouth, but Vidar was the one who answered. “Yes, he does.”
Ollie nodded before walking quickly down the hall into the back room and up the stairs to their apartment. Dagen followed right behind him, worry knotting his stomach. He stopped in the doorway of Ollie’s room casting a long shadow over where Ollie sat on the bed, his sketchbook still clutched in his hands. For a moment, they didn’t say anything, then Dagen was on his knees in front of him. “Ollie...would you look at me? Please?”
“I don’t want you to see this.”
“All I see is the same man I always have. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of—”
“Jesus,” Ollie exploded, jumping to his feet and pacing away from Dagen to stand near the foot of the bed. “Of course I do! Were you not listening? I let that asshole use me!” Tossing the sketchbook on the bed, Ollie ran both hands over his face. “I didn’t know that was what was happening at first. I thought…” Ollie shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. I was young and stupid and just didn’t want to be alone anymore.”
Dagen’s heart cracked in two and he took cautious steps forward. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. If you want to tell me about it, I’m here, but if you’re looking for judgment this isn’t where you’re going to find it.” When he reached Ollie, he went to pull him into a hug, but Ollie stepped back.
“Look,” Ollie said, voice rough, “You don’t owe me anything, okay? So we’ve fucked. That doesn’t mean you have to—”
Stepping forward again, Dagen pressed his lips against Ollie’s still moving ones. The kiss turned fierce in an instant and Dagen slipped his arms around Ollie’s back, one hand settling on the back of his neck. They pulled apart with a gasp, Dagen pressing their foreheads together. “Please don’t punish me for shit he did,” he whispered into the small space between them. “I know it’s new. I know it’s crazy even, but it’s not just sex, Ollie. At least not for me. Tell me you know that.”
Ollie took a deep breath and blew it out slow before brushing his lips over Dagen’s again.
“I know. I’m sorry, Dagen. I shouldn’t have said that. I think I need a minute to get my head together.”
Dagen didn’t like it, but he nodded. “I’m going to go check in with Vidar. I’ll have my phone if you need me.”
Ollie nodded.
Dagen stepped back and took Ollie’s hand in his. He bent his head, never taking his eyes from Ollie’s beautiful brown ones, and pressed a kiss to the knuckles that had so recently been bruised before turning and leaving the room.
He found Vidar in the gym, hands wrapped and landing vicious blows to one of the heavy bags. Dagen walked behind it, grabbing the bag and pressing his shoulder against it to stop the rocking motion his brother’s punches caused.
Vidar nodded and punched harder, sweat glistening along his forehead as he steadily increased his pace until the bag felt like a battering ram trying to pass through Dagen’s body and burst out the other side. With a final brutal backhanded swing that rocked the bag enough Dagen had to brace his feet again, Vidar turned away with a deep growl. The sound echoed around the big room and washed over Dagen, it’s resonance helping him to temper his own anger. Vidar stood for a moment with his back to Dagen, body heaving with his breath, before turning back and starting to remove the wraps from his hands.
“Ollie?” Vidar asked without meeting his eyes.
“He’s upstairs.” Dagen blew out a deep breath. “He didn’t tell me much. Other than he needs some space. Niko?”
At the name Vidar lifted his head, blue eyes flashing with some emotion so quickly that Dagen couldn’t name it before it was gone. “He’s in my office on the couch. Asleep before his head hit the pillow.”
That surprised Dagen with how antsy Niko had seemed, but he let it go remembering how utterly exhausted Ollie had looked that first day barely a month and a lifetime ago. “What are we going to do?”
“Protect them.”
Ollie let the quiet darkness of the apartment wash over him and nestled further down in the bed, pulling the covers up over his head. When he was younger it was his favorite place to read books or flip through his comics, and as he grew older, it morphed into a safe haven where even if only for a few minutes, nothing could touch him and the outside world didn’t exist. Releasing a pent-up breath, he felt the knot in his chest loosen at the familiarity of being ensconced in soft material.
He pressed his nose into the pillow and drew in a deep breath. Dagen’s smell surrounded him, offering further comfort as the first tears slipped down his face. Leaving Vegas was supposed to have put all this behind him. He was grateful that Niko had gotten out too, and he knew he ne
eded to talk further with the younger man, but he just hadn’t had the strength tonight.
Dagen had assumed the worst. Ollie saw it in his eyes, and while the truth was bad enough, he knew he needed to open up, tell Dagen what his life had been like for the past two years. Three weeks ago, he never would have considered confiding in someone, never would have shared his shame. Because that was the worst of it for Ollie. The shame he felt at his own ignorance, at getting himself into the situation in the first place. For staying as long as he did. It tore at him, constantly lurking and waiting to give reminder to all the ways Ollie had failed. His parents. Himself. The way he would surely fail Dagen. A fresh stab of bitter regret pierced his heart and he squeezed his eyes shut.
The door to the apartment clicked open and Ollie stilled, wiping at his eyes, as he listened to Dagen make his way down the hall. His footsteps paused, Ollie imagined him standing in Ollie’s bedroom door and realizing he wasn’t there, before picking up again. The barest glow of golden light filtered into his fortress when he heard the click of the light switch, and went away again almost immediately. The rustling of fabric filled the room a moment before a draft of air met his back and the mattress dipped beside him.
A split second later, strong arms snaked around him, one under his neck and the other around his waist, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut again. Dagen pulled him back into the solid curve of his body, fitting his bent knees in behind Ollie’s and pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck.
Ollie clung to Dagen’s arms like the life raft they were. He’d run away from Vegas, from Justin, and he’d let himself get comfortable here. It was so easy to do. So easy to push all the bad things, all the things he hated about himself, down until they were buried beneath every good job Kayla said to him, every time he put money in his apartment fund, every smile Dagen gave him, and a million other little things. He could bury it there, let it fester, but even before he’d run, he had realized he needed to stop letting Justin or his parents or the past have so much foothold. He was going to take it back.
“I was nineteen when I met Justin.” Ollie’s voice was quiet in the darkness of their blanket cocoon. When Dagen had come back upstairs and Ollie hadn’t been in his room, Dagen had started to panic until he’d flipped the light in his own room and seen the Ollie-shaped lump huddled under the blankets. He hadn’t thought twice about stripping down to his briefs and crawling in beside him. Dagen’s only concern had been making sure Ollie was okay and getting him back in his arms. “And one more late rent payment away from living on the street.”
Dagen didn’t know what to say, so he snuggled even closer letting his lips rest on the back of Ollie’s neck.
“It wasn’t even my apartment. I didn’t even have my own room. Just a bed. There were always so many people in and out. I couldn’t get a good job. I didn’t even have my high school diploma.” Ollie started to absently run his fingers up and down Dagen’s arm, like he was getting lost in his head. “I started doing sketches for tourists, just on the sidewalk, and that’s where he found me.” He huffed a laugh. “It’s such a cliché really. He took me in, taught me to tattoo, helped me get my GED. I think that’s why I stayed so long when things really started to get bad. I felt indebted to him.”
Ollie was quiet for so long Dagen thought he wasn’t going to say anything else, but then Ollie lifted the covers off their heads and turned in Dagen’s arms. His skin was silver in the slivers of moonlight coming through the blinds of the window, and Dagen wanted to kiss him so badly, but held himself back. Ollie had other ideas, though, and leaned in until their foreheads met, then brushed his lips across Dagen’s.
“I know you’re imagining the absolute worst things right now. But mostly it was the manipulation. Things I couldn’t even see at the time. Getting me to let him use my sketches or take credit for work I’d done for the good of the shop. He had a million excuses. A million things that had to be just so. Like my weight. I was thin to begin with, but he always made comments about me keeping it that way. So I did. After a while, my appetite mostly went away. I passed out once on a run. I tried to do a little better after that.”
Rage was scalding Dagen’s insides, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from letting it spill over.
“He had always gambled, but it got worse the longer I was there. He started getting into other things too. The day I left, I walked into the back room to get something, and he was doing lines of cocaine right there in the shop. I turned right around and walked out. He had never hit me until he tried to stop me from getting in the Jeep. He knocked me over and started kicking me.”
“How’d you get away?” Dagen’s voice was rough.
“I managed to grab his foot and trip him. Then I got up and broke his nose.”
“Your knuckles…”
“Yeah, I’d never hit anybody before. It freaking hurts.” Ollie let out a little chuckle, but it was tinged with sadness. “I’ve got a lot of shit to work through, Dagen. Logically, I know that none of it was really my fault but…it still feels like my fault. And then I just ran away, and now Niko…” Ollie’s voice cracked and Dagen pulled him in, tucking him under his chin.
“That is not your fault either. You couldn’t know that he would go after someone else. And…I’m here, okay? For whatever you need.”
Ollie sighed and nodded his head where it rested against Dagen’s chest. As quiet minutes passed, Ollie slowly went lax against him as the emotions of the day caught up and sleep took hold. Closing his eyes, Dagen relished the feel of Ollie safe and warm in his arms. Even though it had only been a week that he’d been granted the privilege, he quietly hoped to always keep him that way.
Chapter Twelve
Ollie was terrified. Why had he agreed to this again? Beside him, Niko looked a little green. Dagen turned to look at them as they stepped up onto his mom’s front porch and barked out a little laugh.
“It’s just dinner, guys. Not even fancy dinner, grilled burgers and mom’s famous potato salad.”
Stella Rourke’s home was nestled on a cul-de-sac in a quiet subdivision about twenty minutes from the gym. Ollie didn’t think he’d ever been in a neighborhood as nice as this, with its multi-story brick homes and manicured lawns. He felt self-conscious in his scuffed-up boots and white t-shirt. Dagen had told him to wear what he normally did, but now he was wondering if the other man was just being nice. And if Ollie was this nervous, he knew Niko had to feel about a hundred times worse. At least Ollie would know almost everyone there.
“What are you guys doing standing out here?” Vidar’s voice called from behind them.
Ollie and Niko both jumped. Dagen turned to scowl at his brother. “We need to get you a freaking bell. And these two needed to take a moment before the plunge.”
“Ah,” Vidar said, climbing the stairs and coming to a stop in front of Niko. “Come on, kid. If you’re hanging around, you’ll need to meet everyone.”
Ollie opened his mouth to protest that Niko should stay with them, at least he kind of knew Ollie, but Niko nodded and walked into the house when Vidar held open the door for him.
“You guys coming?” Vidar asked over his shoulder.
“Be there in a minute,” Dagen said, letting the door close behind his brother before he turned to Ollie. “You okay?”
“How bad is it going to be?”
That small smile Dagen seemed to reserve only for him pulled up the corners of his mouth, and then he was in Ollie’s space, big hands sliding around to bring Ollie in for a kiss. Dagen licked the seam of Ollie’s lips, and Ollie opened for him, tongues brushing together and sending a current of lust through Ollie strong enough to drown everything else. Ollie growled in protest when Dagen started to pull back and did his best to chase him. He never thought he’d curse his six-foot height for being too short.
“That’s not fair,” he huffed, trying to get at Dagen’s lips. The small smile Dagen had had before morphed into a full-blown grin as he lifted his chin evadi
ng Ollie’s advances. Ollie narrowed his eyes and planted his hands on Dagen’s shoulders before jumping up and wrapping his legs Dagen’s waist. The hands on his back darted down to ass to catch him, and he took full advantage of the surprise leaving Dagen’s mouth slack to claim it like he wanted to. Beard hair tickled his chin, and Ollie scratched at it before carding his fingers in the bristly red hair on Dagen’s cheek and lightly setting his nails to skin. Dagen’s eyes slipped closed and a contented hum rumbled up out of his chest. Ollie smiled. “Oh, you like that huh?”
“I like to see you smile,” Dagen whispered, nipping at Ollie’s lips. “And that too.”
“Are you sure this is going to be okay?” Ollie asked, searching Dagen’s face.
“This is one thing you don’t have to worry about Ollie. I promise.”
“Hi baby.” Stella said as soon as Dagen and Ollie stepped out onto the back deck. His mom was a robust lady, full of life and color, but she also had a hard streak, forged from raising four boys practically on her own. Dagen loved her with all his heart. When she reached him, he bent down to pull her into a hug and then let her clasp his face between her hands, so she could look him over.
“Hey, Mom.” Her eyes appraised him for a moment. They were warm and an exact replica of his own. With a kiss to his forehead, she released him and turned her eyes to Ollie. Dagen had really meant it when he told Ollie there was nothing to worry about here. Stella was as generous and compassionate a person as Dagen had ever met. She loved fiercely, and where her boys were concerned, she could turn into a mama bear, but he also knew that she’d look at Ollie and see what he saw. A beautiful soul that needed the chance to blossom.
Open Wounds: The Boxed Set Page 9
