Give and Take (Ties That Bind Book 1)

by Claire Cullen

  “Sam? Sam.” Glancing up from the report he was writing, he found Gary standing over him. “I’ve been calling your name for a full minute. Where’s your head at?”

  “Sorry, just… paperwork,” he said, waving a hand at the sheets spread out before him.

  “Nothing more mind-numbing,” Gary agreed. “Warren's having us all over to watch the game this evening. You’re coming, right?” Warren was standing by the door, giving him a thumbs-up.

  “I’d like to guys, really. I just have some stuff to take care of.” Warren’s face fell. Gary managed to couch his reaction a little better. “That’s cool. Sure you can’t make it though? Tom’s got some of that really nice beer from his brother’s bar.”

  “I’d love to, it’s just, there’s a lot going on.” It was the wrong thing to say, but all Gary did was nod his head. “Sure, maybe we’ll catch you next time.”

  He knew his words would come back to haunt him though, and they did just an hour later as he was getting changed to go home. The others were already gone, and he thought he was the last one left. Until Thomas sat down next to him.

  “Anything you need to talk about?”

  “No, sir,” he answered.

  “Only you’ve been distracted recently. And you’ve missed three team nights out in a row. Tonight will make a fourth.”

  “I know. It’s not that I don’t want to be there.” Which was true, he liked spending time with the team. He hadn’t at first, when he was very green and Thomas was giving him a hard time most hours of the day. But he’d shown them he was able for the challenges, able to work with them, and now they reminded him of his army unit. Brothers of another sort.

  “It’s just you have a lot going on,” Tom added, and Sam mentally cursed Gary.

  “Yeah,” he said lamely.

  “Something you should maybe talk about?”

  For a moment, he considered how nice it would be to pour his worries out, about Matt and his downward spiral and the struggle to keep him afloat. Or even about Drew and the things that just weren’t adding up. But he didn’t want to put his problems onto someone else’s shoulders.

  “It’s nothing serious. I took in a roommate last week. He’s the younger brother of an old army mate of mine. Ran into some trouble, needed help, and has been a bit of a handful.” He felt bad for laying it all on Drew’s doorstep, especially since the other man hadn’t been any problem until the previous evening.

  “Babysitting duty, huh?”

  “I don’t know if you can technically call it babysitting when they’re twenty-four.”

  Tom clapped him on the shoulder. “That just makes it harder, because they’re legally adults even when they act like two-year-olds.”

  He stood. “If you need any help, Sam. You know where to find me.”

  “Thanks, Tom. I’m sure it’ll sort itself out.” Even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t true. If Matt was going to sort himself out, he’d have done it already. And Drew, well, he didn’t even know where to start.

  He stopped by an off-license on his way home and picked up a six-pack. This wasn’t necessarily a good plan, but it was a plan and he had the next day off. Matt had called him after checking on Drew, the medic seeming happy that his initial assessment had proved true.

  “Couldn’t get anything out of him about what’s going on though. I didn’t want to press too hard. Something has him spooked.”

  Drew was on the couch when he got back, but washed and dressed and sitting up reading one of Sam’s magazines.

  “You like bikes?” Drew asked him, holding up the glossy cover with a picture of a Ducati motorcycle on the front.

  “They’re a good way to travel.”

  “What do you ride?” It was only when he asked that Sam realized Drew had never seen him on his bike, which was down in the parking garage.

  “A Ninja 650.”

  He could see from the expression on Drew’s face that that meant nothing to him.

  “Does it live up to its name?” he asked.

  “It doesn’t Kung Fu fight if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Drew watched him, one eyebrow raised. “Did you just mash the two great ancient cultures of China and Japan together for the sake of a bad joke?”

  “As long as we avoid unnecessary puns, where’s the harm,” he joked back, putting the beer in the fridge to chill. “Do you watch football?”

  Drew seemed a little thrown by the change in direction. “Sometimes. I’m not a die-hard fan but I enjoy watching a good game.”

  “Great, kick-off’s in thirty. I’m going to shower.”

  “I could make some food. Stir-fry or something,” Drew offered tentatively.

  “Matt would have my head. Stay there, I’ll cook when I’m clean.”

  Drew sat back down, looking mildly irritated at being told what to do. Sam ignored it. He didn’t need Drew on his feet trying to cook him dinner. His face was a patchwork quilt of pale skin and purple bruising, and Sam could see from the way he was hunched over in the chair that his injuries hadn’t miraculously healed.

  When he came back out, toweling his hair dry, Drew was on the couch where he’d left him, but all the ingredients for a stir-fry were set out on the counter, the wok on the stove next to them.

  Drew met his stare head-on with a hint of defiance. It lasted only a moment, before the other man dropped his gaze, a blush suffusing his cheeks.

  “I just wanted to help,” he admitted with a shrug. “So you don’t miss the game.”

  “I can watch and cook at the same time,” Sam pointed out, given the kitchen and living room spaces were adjoined. They didn’t say any more about it while he cooked their meal, browning the chicken before adding the veg.

  They sat side by side as they ate, watching the game on the tv. It wasn’t a great match, one team easily surpassing the other from the get-go. Halfway through their meal, he brought out the beer, handing one to Drew while taking one himself. He sipped his slowly, watching as Drew went through his at a much faster pace. Once he’d finished his meal, Sam took both cans back to the kitchen, switched Drew's out for a fresh one and carried his own half-full one back under the guise of a refill.

  Drew didn’t notice, accepting the offered beer with a muttered thanks. Midway through he paused, looking from the beer to Sam, and Sam wondered if he’d cottoned on.

  “I don’t drink much. Two is probably my limit.”

  “Sure. I’m not a big drinker myself,” he agreed.

  Drew finished the beer, settling the empty can down next to him.

  “Is it just me, or is this game ridiculously boring?”

  “It’s not you. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. No effort needed.”

  “Maybe the losers were bribed. It could be a fix,” Drew suggested.

  “If it was, I actually think they’d play better. Or at least, give the appearance they were trying.”

  “You’re probably right.” Drew sat back, sighing. “I think beer might trump pain relief. I feel a lot better.”

  “Yes and no. It dulls your senses and helps you relax. Takes the pressure off mind and body.”

  “Yeah, but two more and I’m a binge drinker. Guess that’s why they don’t recommend it at the doctor’s office.”

  “I guess so.”

  Drew did seem more relaxed. Not just how he held himself, but his tongue too.

  “What happened to Matt?”

  That question came out of left field and Sam, momentarily taken aback, flapped around for something to say. “What… what do you mean?”

  “He’s not what I was expecting. There was something about him. Like he’s in pain or hurt.” Broken was the word that came to the forefront of Sam’s mind but he pushed it firmly away.

  He grasped for a way to explain it, finally settling on familiar words.

  “Sometimes, the army takes you in, makes you a man, and lets you back out into the world. Sometimes it takes you in, breaks you down, and spits you back out in
pieces. Matt was the latter. Saw some bad shit go down and he’s still working through it.”

  “You were Matt’s friend before you were Logan’s, right?”

  They’d lost interest in the game but this was what Sam had wanted, to get Drew talking. Establish a connection. It was what they always drilled into them in work. If you could connect with a person, you stood a better chance of helping them, of saving them from themselves.

  “I met Matt back in basic. He introduced me to Logan and later we wound up shipping out together. That kind of closeness creates bonds.”

  “You know my brother better than I do,” Drew said softly.

  “I didn’t grow up with him, we don’t share blood. That’s a different kind of bond. So what about you?”

  Drew seemed amused at the question. “What about me?”

  “You were living back east, right?”

  “Right. Columbus, Atlanta. I moved around for a bit, then settled for a while before I came here.”

  It didn’t escape Sam’s notice that Drew didn’t tell him where he’d moved from. He didn’t tackle it. As soon as he got Drew on the defensive, he’d have lost any advantage.

  “What kind of work were you doing?”

  “Different stuff. Waiting tables, bar work, shelf stocking. Worked in a reptile shop for a while. I can still hear the crickets that we’d feed to the lizards and snakes.”

  “How’d you wind up working there?”

  “My boyfriend was the owner, really passionate about it—”

  Drew seemed to realize what he’d said about a second after he’d spoken. What little color that was in his face drained as he turned to Sam. “I didn’t—What I said—” After two false starts, the other man blurted out, “Don’t tell Logan. Please. It would—we barely have a connection as it is, I don’t want to lose that.”

  “Whoa.” Sam held up one hand, trying to forestall the deluge of panic emanating from Drew. “Let’s go back a few steps, okay? I don’t get what the problem is.”

  He didn’t. Not in the slightest. If Drew was gay, so what?

  “Logan, and my dad, they’re not very… accepting… of people being different. He doesn’t know and I don’t want the kind of trouble that would come with him finding out, for either of us.”

  “You think Logan would have a problem with you being gay?”

  Drew nodded, still pale, his eyes holding that panicked look that Sam did not like, not at all.

  “Like I said. My family aren’t tolerant. I couldn’t bear to have them look at me that way.”

  “What way?” Sam still couldn’t believe that Drew was having such a strong reaction to even the idea of Logan knowing something so fundamental about him.

  “Like I disgust them.”

  Sam rocked back in his seat, reaching for his half-empty beer, and taking a long swallow while he thought about what to say.

  “What you tell your family, what you tell your brother, is your business and no one else’s. But I’m surprised you think he’d have such a bad reaction. He’s never had a problem with me. Nor Matt for that matter.”

  Chapter Six

  Sam’s words ran through his head, over and over, making less sense each time. Sam was gay. And Matt. They were two close friends of Logan’s, people Logan trusted with his life.

  “Logan isn’t…” He had to ask, feeling like a fish out of water.

  Sam choked on a mouthful of beer and took a minute to recover enough to speak. “No. Logan is as straight as they come. He and Haley have been together like what, four years now?”

  Drew just shrugged. He knew about Haley of course but she was nothing more than a name written on a card or an email.

  “Why would you think that about your brother, that he’d be that kind of person?”

  It was on the tip of Drew’s tongue to say, ‘you don’t know him like I do’, but the reality was, of the two of them, Sam knew Logan better now. Possibly better than Drew ever had.

  “Things were never easy at home.” The words escaped him and he forgot to even try to censor himself. “My dad and I never saw eye to eye and after our mom died, it just got worse. I think maybe Dad suspected. He never said it outright but whenever the subject came up, whether it was someone on tv or someone we knew, he and Logan would take them to pieces. It was almost a competition to see who could—” He stopped, the memories flooding him. “I knew they’d never accept me for who I was, so I got out of there as soon as I could.”

  He stared at his hands, twisted together in his lap, seeing the bright light of the game flashing on the screen out of the corner of his eye.

  “Damn, I… I’m sorry. It’s just that’s so far from the Logan I know, we could be talking about two different people.”

  Drew shrugged. “Maybe he is a different person now.” People changed, they grew up. He certainly had.

  “So you and Matt?” He neatly changed the subject, not wanting to dwell any longer on his painful teenage years.

  Sam laughed at his question. “No, there’s no me and Matt. Or me and anyone right now. We’re friends. Matt was… there was someone else and they’re gone. It’s part of why he is the way he is right now.”

  “That can’t have been easy. The military, I mean, they’re not exactly au fait with the whole gay thing.”

  Sam made a face. “They’re getting better but yeah, we lived under ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’ It wasn’t the worst. I got what I wanted from the experience, got the kind of training some people can only dream of. Saw places I never thought I would.”

  Sam smiled over at him, and Drew’s heart fluttered. Just his luck that his roommate would be both hot and available. He wasn’t in any position to be starting something. Sam’s smile faded and Drew worried it was something he’d done or not done.

  “We’re back talking about me again. You were telling me about what you worked as before.” It would have been so easy to give in to Sam’s open, encouraging expression and talk until his voice got hoarse. But the more he talked, the bigger the chance he’d mess up again and let something slip that would really make trouble for him.

  “The reptile shop was really the height of it.” Three years working as an IT security consultant made that the baldest lie he’d told so far and he caught the slight narrowing of Sam’s eyes that told him the other man wasn’t buying it.

  “Alright, if you don’t want to talk about the past, we’ll stick to the present.”

  Drew wasn’t sure that was all that much better. For him, the present was a minefield.

  “Game is almost over,” he commented, gesturing to the screen.

  “It’s been over since the sixth minute. We’ve just been watching the death throes. But that’s not what I mean. I was hoping you had reconsidered.”

  “Reconsidered what?” If he couldn’t dissuade Sam by directing both their attention elsewhere, he’d have to do the opposite. Pay Sam more attention, enough that he forgot whatever it was he wanted to know. If only if was that simple.

  “Reporting your assault.”

  He shrugged, not quite hiding the wince that the movement provoked.

  “Like I said yesterday. I don’t know them and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t recognize them.” That was a mistake. Hadn’t he told Sam he’d gambled with them? Hard to do that without seeing their faces. Damn, he was batting a thousand.

  “All the more reason to report it. The local precinct can check CCTV, canvas for witnesses. It’s not a quiet spot, people see things.”

  “It was an alleyway. No one was around and who’d pay for cameras to watch an alleyway? Besides, I’m sure it was more of a misunderstanding than anything else.”

  “What the hell did they misunderstand?” Sam was incredulous, turning to face him, his arm across the back of the couch, close enough to touch Drew.

  “It doesn’t matter. It happened, it’s over, and I want to move on. I came here for a fresh start.”

  The heat in Sam’s voice cooled. “It goes against my nature as a cop,
and I don’t get it, but it is your choice, I can’t make you report it. But you need to know what you’re going to do if they come back.”

  Drew shuddered at the thought. One beating was enough. He’d be feeling it for days, if not weeks. And now he had bruises over bruises.

  “Was it another gambling debt?”

  Sam kept jumping from topic to topic, and Drew felt like he was trailing behind, trapped in slow motion.

  “What?”

  “The older bruises Matt found. He said they were about a week old, which would mean they happened right before you got here. What happened there?”

  “Hard to have a fresh start when you keep bringing up the past,” he complained, turning sideways, and tucking his legs up under him. Leaning forward, he said quietly, “Surely we can think of something more interesting to talk about. I’m guessing you have some great stories, being a soldier and all. Not to mention a cop.”

  Sam looked chagrined at first, but his frown faded to a smile. “Lots of stories. Would you prefer to hear about saving babies, rescuing cats from trees, or marching through the desert in the blistering heat.”

  “Did you do a lot of hand to hand combat?” Drew asked, eyeing the muscles of Sam’s arms. “Wrestling matches?”

  A slow grin settled on Sam’s face. “Not the kind of wrestling you’re thinking of, I’m guessing.”

  He met Sam's dark eyes and licked his lips, wetting them. “I like all kinds of wrestling. Maybe you could show me some moves.” As he spoke, he let one hand touch Sam, his fingers just resting on the cool skin of his hand. When Sam didn’t react, he slowly pushed upward, across the back of Sam’s hand, along his wrist, and up his arm towards his elbow, feeling the hard muscles under his fingers.