Indigo Knights: The Boxed Set

by Jet Mykles

  “He admitted he liked fucking me.” Lance tried to keep his voice even and calm. “But he said he couldn’t trust me.”

  “’Cause of what happened before? When you were together?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Geez, what happened?”

  “I cheated on him.”

  “Oh.” Darien considered that over a sip of his drink. “Okay, yeah. I can see that. Was it an ongoing thing?”

  “What?”

  “The cheating.”

  “Once.”

  “Once?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You cheated on him once?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’ve been basically celibate ever since?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long ago did you break up?”

  “Two and a half years ago.” Give or take.

  “Why’d you stop having sex?”

  Lance shrugged, looking out over the ocean. He set his empty glass on the table and nodded at the attendant who appeared to ask if he wanted another. “I thought about him every time. Every time. Even with the women.” He shook his head. “It was fucking weird.”

  Darien laughed. “Not so weird. I don’t think I could do anyone else without thinking about Chris.” He laughed again. “Actually, I don’t even want anyone other than Chris.”

  Lance nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. I don’t want anyone else.”

  “You tell Gordon that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You tell him you love him?”

  “I have.”

  “Lately?”

  “He hasn’t given me a chance.”

  “Maybe you need to tell him.”

  “He doesn’t want to hear it.”

  “Fuck him. It’s true. And he’s got to feel something for you. He called you to come join the Knights.”

  “Yeah, that just kind of worked out ’cause they needed a bass player and a drummer.”

  “Bullshit. He could have found other guys. There are plenty of guys just dying to work with Brent. Believe me; I know.”

  Lance conceded the point as the attendant put down his fourth mai tai. He didn’t normally drink rum, but man, these were good.

  “Plus he slept with you.”

  “We were always good at that.”

  “Yeah, but Gordon doesn’t strike me as the cruel type. If he knew you were cold turkey because of him, that’s just fucking mean to fuck you, then leave you hanging.”

  Lance stared at Darien. Yes, Noble had said much the same thing, and Lance had been simmering over it for a month, but to hear Darien say it aloud gave the words new meaning. Okay, maybe the profundity was helped by the mai tais.

  Darien chewed on his straw, thinking. “If I didn’t know better, I’d call him a controlling bastard.”

  “He is a controlling bastard.” The words were blurted, but that didn’t mean they weren’t true.

  “Is he?”

  “He likes to be in control.”

  A dark little smile. “In bed too?”

  Lance laughed. “Some of that too. But mostly out of bed.”

  “Hmm. See, there’s nothing wrong with a controlling bastard. I’ve got one of those, and I love it. Love him.” The tone and glow to Darien’s face underlined his feelings. “But Chris and me’ve got an understanding. We talked about what he can control and what he’s got no business in.” He shrugged. “There’s not much, because I know he’s smarter’n me, so I like to get his take on things. But there’s gotta be some talk about it, y’know?” He cocked his head and searched Lance’s eyes as if to see whether his point came across.

  Lance nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. We never really talked about shit like that.”

  “See, ya gotta do that. ’Cause that’s where the misunderstandings come in, and that’s never any good. Chris and I almost never got together, because he wouldn’t talk to me. He didn’t trust me.” Judging from the frown that darkened his features, it hadn’t been a pleasant time. Lance could relate. “But I made him listen. I had to.” Brown eyes locked on his. “Because I had to be with him. You feel me?”

  “Yeah. I hear you.”

  “You fucked up. Sure. But I think you proved yourself since.” Darien reached over to pat Lance’s shoulder. “You paid your dues. You gotta make him see that.”

  “Lance?”

  Startled, he turned to see the photographer’s main assistant a few feet away. She smiled. “Luc just got here, so we’re ready to take you to makeup now.”

  “He’s here?” Darien laughed as he sat back in his seat. “Well, shit, he’s early. Will wonders never cease.” He raised his glass to Lance in salute. “Have fun, man. And don’t forget what I said.”

  Lance stood, ready to leave his drink behind. His brain percolated over Darien’s words. “I won’t.”

  “If you need to talk again, just let me know. I love to talk.” Anxiously, he grabbed Lance’s arm. “But I won’t say anything about this to anyone. Promise.”

  Lance smiled. Darien acted juvenile much of the time, but Lance never did doubt that he was a smart man. He’d known Noble too long to let someone’s demeanor fool him. “Thanks.”

  “No worries.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Present, August

  When Noble came home, he turned on the light to find Lance sitting in the dark. “Jesus!” He crossed from their apartment’s front door to stand beside the couch where Lance sat. “What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”

  Lance kept staring out the window, like he’d been staring out the window for a while now. “Thinking.”

  “Where’s Danny?”

  “He got a text from Cash.”

  Noble sat on the coffee table beside Lance’s feet. “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’d it say?”

  “Dinner invite to his new apartment.”

  “Wow. That sounds promising.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why are you sitting here in the dark?”

  Lance shook his head, looking down at the long-flat beer he cradled in his lap. “I’m jealous.”

  Noble sighed. “Gordon’s not gonna text you.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s back in town, though.”

  “He is?”

  “I talked to Doug. He got back last night.”

  “He wasn’t due back for another week.”

  Noble just stared at him. “I know.”

  Lance stared back. He’d been doing a lot of thinking during the last part of the tour. Hell, he’d been doing a lot of thinking for the past year or so. “I’m done thinking.”

  “Huh?”

  He shook his head and stood. “I’m done thinking.” He took his beer to the kitchen, not surprised when Noble followed. “I’m going to see him.”

  “You sure about this?”

  “No. But I gotta do something. I can’t do another tour like the last one.” Lance took a deep breath, settling his decision. “We gotta talk it out.”

  Noble was leaning on the other side of the counter, looking at him. “You guys aren’t real good at talking.”

  “I know.” He strode past his friend to scoop up his keys from the table beside the door. “That’s gotta stop.”

  * * * *

  Lance took it as an excellent sign that he found a parking space halfway down the street from Gordon’s townhouse. Bolstered by that good fortune and the litany he’d been repeating to himself on the way over, he pocketed his keys and climbed the cement steps to Gordon’s front door.

  He considered it an even better sign that Gordon was there to answer the door. Looking good. He wore a faded blue-and-white soccer T-shirt that Lance recognized from way back, jeans, and no shoes. His glossy black hair was mussed and not styled, just the way Lance most preferred it. He frowned when he saw Lance. “What are you doing here?”

  Without waiting for an invitation, Lance crossed the threshold. “It’s time for us to talk.” He took advantage of Gord
on’s surprise and slipped past him into the foyer. The small space was crowded with boxes and pieces of furniture. Judging from the odd arrangement of furniture in the living room and the conspicuous presence of cleaning supplies, Lance guessed that Gordon was cleaning house.

  “Who decided that?” Gordon asked from behind him.

  Lance turned around and stepped backward into the cleared space, oddly buoyed by all the room around him. Only a large brown suede couch sat in the midst with him. “Me.”

  Releasing the door to let it close, Gordon crossed his arms over his chest. “Do I have a say?”

  Lance stopped at one end of the couch. “About us talking?” From this angle he could see a glass of wine on the sidebar just inside the open door to the dining area. Another staple of Gordon’s cleaning habits. “No. You don’t.”

  Scowling, Gordon stood in the arch that separated the foyer from the living room, arms still crossed. “So? Talk.”

  Lance pushed his loose hair back. “I’m done waiting for you.”

  Gordon snorted. “No one asked you to wait.”

  “No. But I have. And I’m done.”

  “Good.” Gordon’s gaze fell, and only because he was looking did Lance see his fingers tighten on his arms. “Are you leaving now?”

  “Oh hell no.” Deliberately, Lance dropped onto the couch and spread his arms over the back. “I’m here to stay.”

  Gordon’s head came up, eyes big. “What?”

  Good. That had caught him off guard. Lance had done some thinking on the way over, and he’d decided that if Gordon wanted him out of his life, he’d have to push Lance harder. “You and I belong together.”

  Gordon took two steps toward him, arms and jaw dropping. “Who the fuck are you to decide that?”

  “I’m the only one who’ll put up with all your bullshit.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “How many boyfriends you chase off lately?”

  Thinly pressed lips and narrowed eyes. “I haven’t had a boyfriend for months.”

  “Right. Because I’m the guy you’re in love with.”

  “The fuck I am.”

  “You dating anyone else?”

  “Just because I’m not dating—”

  “You fucked anyone since me?”

  Gordon froze. Lance’s heart soared. He hadn’t known for sure that Gordon hadn’t been with anyone since their night together, but he’d figured it was worth a shot. Luck was with him, as he seemed to have hit pay dirt.

  “Sex doesn’t make a relationship,” Gordon growled, reeling back to regain composure.

  “No. But it makes it a hell of a lot sweeter.”

  “Fuck you. Get out of my house.”

  “Make me.”

  Gordon stood two feet away, hands fisted at his sides. He was stronger than Lance, and both of them knew he could force the issue. It was clear to Lance that the problem was touching. Gordon didn’t want to touch him. Or maybe he wanted to touch too much. So Lance stood. Gordon fell back a step. Lance took a step, which forced Gordon back farther.

  Standing his ground, Lance met Gordon’s eyes, reading the conflict in those gorgeous depths. “You know we need to hash this out once and for all.”

  Gordon’s jaw locked. “We already have. We’re done.”

  “Sure. Until you decide we need to fuck again.”

  Shaking his head, Gordon turned to circle around to the back of the couch. “That’s not going to happen again.”

  Lance followed a few steps behind. “Why? Because you’re afraid I’m gonna fuck around on you or some fucked-up thing?”

  “Some fucked-up—”

  “All your reasons for us not being together are shit. None of them hold water.”

  “You son of a—”

  “Talk to me!” In a rush, Lance caught up to him and grabbed hold of his arm to turn him around. Gordon jumped like he’d been struck by lightning, and met his gaze. “Say what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m thinking you fucked someone else.”

  “I did. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry’s not enough.”

  “Then what is?” Gordon tried to shake Lance’s hold, but Lance dug his fingers into firm biceps. “Tell me. What do I have to do to prove to you that I’m sorry and I won’t do it again?”

  “There’s nothing you can do.”

  Lance let go with a hard shove that backed Gordon up against the wall. The strength of the move surprised both of them. “You know what I think? I don’t think you’re pissed that I slept with someone else.”

  Gordon rubbed at his arm as he glared. “No?”

  “No. You’re pissed I didn’t do what you said. That I didn’t come running after you when you left.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Do you even remember what was happening then?”

  “Of course I remember.”

  “You wanted me to leave Shelby.”

  “I always wanted you to leave Shelby.”

  “Yeah, but you thought after my mom died that that was it. That you’d finally get me away.”

  “What are you going on about?”

  “You left. You quit Shelby, and you moved across town. You weren’t taking my calls. You had millions of reasons not to see me. Do you remember that?”

  “I was putting together a new life.”

  “Without me.”

  “You were more than welcome in my life.”

  “As long as I came running. Begging for it.”

  “I never asked you to beg.”

  “Nah, but you wanted the running. Didn’t you?”

  Gordon glared for a few seconds, then turned away, headed for the kitchen. “Get out of my house.”

  “Why?” Lance followed on his heels. “Why push me away now? Here I am. I came running.”

  His back to Lance, Gordon shook his head as he lifted his glass of wine. Lance was close enough to see his hand shake.

  “You want me on my knees? You want me to beg?” Lance dropped to the tiles with a grunt.

  Visibly shocked, Gordon rounded on him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I’m begging.” He even folded his hands together. “Please. Take me back.”

  “Get up.”

  “No.”

  “This is insane.”

  “Fine.”

  “It’s not what I want.”

  “What do you want?”

  Gordon opened his mouth, but no words came out. Lance feared the delicate wineglass might shatter from the force of Gordon’s fingers holding it.

  “I’m here. I won’t leave. I’ll never look at anyone else besides you.”

  Gordon’s jaw worked side to side.

  “I haven’t wanted anyone else in the last two years. I tried. I tried to go back to my life before you.” Lance shook his head, keeping eye contact. “It was horrible.”

  Gordon shut his eyes like he was trying not to listen.

  “I fucked someone a few months ago.”

  His eyes flew open at that.

  Lance kept talking. “It was fast and furious in a bathroom at a club. You’d just broken up with Leon. I was pissed. I fucked some guy and never learned his name. It. Was. Awful.”

  The admission let Gordon turn away from him. It had been a gamble, but he wanted to be upfront.

  “I get more satisfaction jerking off when I’m thinking about you.”

  Gordon stared at the wall.

  “I don’t want anyone else.”

  In profile, he saw Gordon’s lips press together. He shook his head slightly as though negating a thought.

  “You said you don’t trust me. But that goes both ways. I may have slept with someone else, but you effectively left me before it happened. How do I trust that you won’t do it again?”

  It was small, but Gordon flinched.

  Lance took the opportunity to stand. “The way I see it, we keep working our way back to each other. You didn’t want us to get together in the first place,
but we did. I didn’t want us to get exclusive, but we did. We had a horrible breakup, but you cared enough to call me when you found a place for me.”

  Still staring at the wall, Gordon opened his mouth as though to answer. Then closed it with a click.

  “It’s too much work to stay apart,” Lance continued, softening his tone. “I love you, and I really do believe that you love me too. Let’s have an actual relationship. Let’s talk about this.”

  They stood less than an arm’s length apart, but Lance didn’t feel right closing the distance. Not yet.

  Gordon took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the damn wall. “I don’t always need to call the shots.” There was an odd strangle in his voice. “I just… Sometimes I can see so clearly…” His jaw worked again. Then suddenly he was looking at Lance, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I couldn’t find a way to get you to listen.”

  Lance nodded. “Wasn’t you. I wasn’t going to listen. Not then. But my ears are wide open now.”

  Gordon licked his bottom lip. Bit it. “I thought if I kept my distance, if we kept it just business… But you… God, I never expected that you’d…”

  It hurt to stay where he was when he wanted to take Gordon into his arms, but Lance wanted to let Gordon get the words out. It felt important.

  “You should have just moved on.” The sentence came out in a rush. Impatiently, Gordon reached up to dash moisture from his eyes. “If you’d just moved on, we would have been fine.”

  “We wouldn’t have been fi—”

  “We would have been fine. We could be friends. But every time you push closer…” His words broke off, his head tilting down.

  Closer. Yeah, he had to be closer. Lance moved in but didn’t touch, didn’t reach. He bent his neck just enough to get a better look at Gordon’s face. “I have to get closer to you. I did then. I do now. I love you.”

  Gordon pulled his upper lip between his teeth. A tear dribbled from the eye Lance could see. “We’ll just hurt each other again.”

  “Not if we talk.” Now he slid his hands up Gordon’s arms. “Not if we finally listen.”

  Gordon leaned in to rest his forehead on Lance’s shoulder. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah.” He flattened his hands on Gordon’s back to slowly inch him nearer. “We can do that.”

  Laughing, Gordon let himself be gathered close. “I thought you wanted to talk.”