by L. A. Witt
After a moment, Lucas pulled out and stood on wobbly legs to take care of the condom. For Nate, it took some work, but he managed to get up as well, and cleaned himself up before collapsing back onto the still-warm sheets.
As Lucas joined him, Nate wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his sweaty temple. “I’m sorry about earlier. At the barbecue.”
Lucas brushed his lips across Nate’s. “It’s okay.”
“Did anyone say anything?” Nate cringed. “I felt bad about—”
“No, no, it was fine. Jon and I made up some shit about you getting a call from work, and no one questioned it.”
Nate exhaled. “Thanks. I owe you both.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Did you at least have a good time after I left?”
Lucas’s shoulder lifted under Nate’s hand in a slight half shrug. “It’s always fun to hang out with everyone. I was just, you know, worried about you.”
Wincing, Nate pulled him closer and kissed his forehead. “I’m really sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. As long as you’re okay.”
Slowly, Nate started to relax, and he smiled before leaning in for a long, soft kiss. “It was a rough day, but I’m all right.” He ran his fingers through Lucas’s hair. “Especially now.”
Lucas’s features softened too, and a smile slowly came to life. “Good. I’m glad.”
They held each other’s gazes. Words weren’t happening, so they settled on another long kiss before Lucas sank into Nate’s arms and rested his head on his shoulder. And they stayed like that—holding each other, enjoying the afterglow, and just being there together.
Distantly, Nate was aware of how raw he’d been earlier and how hellish it had been to let his emotions rip him apart. There was an enormous chasm between him and that breakdown, though—hurt like that just couldn’t exist on the same plane as this.
Nate closed his eyes and released a long breath. He hadn’t expected to feel at peace any time soon, but lying here with Lucas, he was damn close to it. Calm. Relaxed. Satisfied. Hopeful. The pain was still there, beneath the surface or in another dimension or something, but his senses and his mind were entirely fixed on this warm, comfortable closeness.
When his emotions got the best of him, he wondered how he was ever going to get to the other side of all this.
Next to Lucas, though, he was going to be okay.
In fact, he was already there.
Chapter 24
Nate was sound asleep, but Lucas was wide awake.
Lying on his side, he watched Nate’s chest rise and fall with slow, deep breaths. Nate’s face was mostly hidden by shadows, though there was just enough light coming in from the street for Lucas to make out the tiger tattoo. Not the details, but the distinct shape. The difference between smooth, fair skin and dark lines and shading. It was tempting to trail his fingers over it, but he didn’t. No point in waking Nate up.
That ink was the reason they’d met. More to the point, Nate’s need to cover up the ink. To put something over the top of a past he didn’t want to think about anymore. With as many cover-ups as Lucas did, and after he’d stupidly tattooed his ex-wives’ names on himself, he understood—sometimes a person was so certain about something, they’d commit it to their skin. What a shock when things changed. Or when a tattoo didn’t come out the way a person had hoped.
This wasn’t a badly executed tramp stamp or an ill-judged logo from a one-hit-wonder boy band. It wasn’t drunkenly getting a spring-break fling’s name.
This was a man Nate had married and built a life with and . . . hadn’t gotten over. At all. If today was any indication, Nate was just starting to scratch the surface of a whole lot of baggage.
Lucas swallowed. As much as he didn’t want it to, the truth was slowly sinking in. Nate had come to him looking for a cover-up for that tattoo. They’d never gotten around to that part, but . . . they kind of had. The ink was still there and untouched, but Lucas had damn sure given him a cover-up. Something to hide his grief and all the other emotions kicked up by his divorce.
And damn if he hadn’t let himself get closer than he should have. As much as he’d said from the get-go that he wasn’t getting involved with someone who was this freshly divorced, it hadn’t taken long to catch on that the whole “sex without emotions” thing had gone out the window. Neither of them had fought it, either. After all, they’d clicked. They were compatible in and out of the bedroom. They had bed-breaking sex, and then talked like they’d known each other their whole lives. Nate was considerate and sweet. He was polite, and he was patient, and he was . . .
Not emotionally available.
Lucas’s heart sank.
Nate was amazing, but he was in way too deep with someone else. Not in the sense that he was cheating on Lucas, just that he’d never stopped being invested in his ex-husband.
And Lucas got that. He really did. Getting over his own divorces had taken time, and it hadn’t been fun, and he’d met, married, divorced, and moved on from both ex-wives during the time Nate had been with Caleb. Those guys had history. Nate was invested. That didn’t go away overnight.
Which meant this thing they were doing? It wasn’t long for this world. Once Nate was over his divorce . . .
Sighing, Lucas closed his eyes. No wonder Nate had never bothered to get his tattoo covered. He didn’t need to anymore because he had Lucas to keep his mind off the past until the pain was gone.
It wasn’t like he was shocked to realize this was a rebound. He’d known that from the start. He’d just convinced himself it somehow wasn’t doomed to fail. Or that he wasn’t being used. Or that the inevitable end would hurt any less just because what they’d had together was so amazing.
Nate’s Realtor walking in on them had been funny in the moment, but now the memory didn’t sit so comfortably in Lucas’s mind. Nate had been so focused on them and what they’d been doing, he’d completely forgotten his Realtor was bringing someone by to look at the house. Because of course he had—Lucas was his human amnesia. The thing he used to ignore everything from his past life. When they were together, he didn’t have to think about his ex-husband or why the house was for sale or how he’d start over on his own. Even after he’d obviously been crying recently—tipping his hand and letting it show just how over his ex he was not—he could tangle up with a willing, warm body and pretend everything was all right. He could probably fuck Lucas while the house literally burned down around them.
Lucas understood. Divorces hurt. And he felt like a dick for even thinking about breaking up with a man who was obviously in a bad spot. The last thing Nate needed was another split so close on the heels of his ex-husband putting him through the wringer.
But wasn’t there some saying about how sometimes you needed to be cruel to be kind? Nate wasn’t going to deal with his divorce while he had Lucas there to hold his focus. The longer this went on, the worse it would fester.
For that matter, Lucas had to be a little selfish, too. This relationship didn’t exist in a vacuum. He didn’t doubt that Nate was into him, but he also couldn’t deny that Nate was using him.
He rolled onto his side, back to Nate, and closed his eyes, pretending the sting was just because he was exhausted. He was not in love with Nate, and he was not about to break down at the thought of walking away. It was time to let go, and in the morning, that was exactly what he would do.
In the darkness, he ran his fingers over the German and Italian lettering he’d etched onto his wrist after his second divorce.
That which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.
This time there was no denying it was tears pricking at his eyes. He sniffed sharply and closed his hand around the tattoo. No, this wouldn’t kill him. And yeah, maybe it would make him stronger in the end.
But damn if it didn’t hurt like hell right now.
* * *
Nate’s alarm dragged both of them out of bed at five-thirty. Lucas hadn’t slept m
uch, so he struggled a bit—by the time he was shuffling into the shower, Nate was already shaved, half-dressed, and heading into the kitchen to make coffee.
It wasn’t just the fatigue slowing Lucas down, though. He’d spent half the night trying to come to a different conclusion. He’d drift off, then wake up and rehash the whole thing in his head, trying to come up with a different ending. Every time, he landed in the same place—they couldn’t keep doing this. Nate wasn’t ready, and Lucas didn’t want this to hurt any more than it already would. He needed to end this. It wasn’t now or never. It was now or hurt more when he finally worked up the courage.
So, after he’d showered, he got dressed and gave himself a long look in the mirror.
You can do this.
It’s gonna hurt, and it’s gonna suck, but it’s better for both of us.
Just get it over with.
Dressed and as prepared as he’d ever be, Lucas packed up the odds and ends he’d left in the bathroom and bedroom. After he’d quietly left his bag by the front door, he joined Nate in the kitchen.
He was ready. He was going to do this. And he—
Fuck.
One look at Nate and Lucas’s heart sank. Funny how those internal pep talks always made it sound easy. Or at least not impossible.
But he had to. Things were going to come a head sooner or later, and sooner would hurt both of them a hell of a lot less.
There was no denying that he had feelings for Nate. He also couldn’t deny that the longer this thing went on, the deeper those feelings would run. Cutting him loose now would hurt like hell. Doing it six months from now? Or a year? Shit. No.
It would hurt Lucas, and it would be terrible for Nate too. The guy had shit he needed to deal with. Shit he was ignoring whenever they were together unless something—like, say, a marriage proposal—brought everything to the surface.
Yeah. It was time.
Lucas took a deep breath and looked Nate in the eye. “Listen, I think I need to go.”
“Already?” Nate glanced at the time on the microwave. “I thought the office didn’t open until—”
“No, I mean . . . I need to go.”
Nate straightened, and Lucas swore he could feel the man’s heart dropping. Or maybe that was his own, except he was pretty sure that had hit the floor already. Barely whispering, Nate said, “But . . . why?”
“This is moving way too fast for me.”
“Too—” Nate blinked. Then swallowed. “Okay. We can . . . we can slow things down, then. We’re—”
“No. It’s not that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean . . .” Lucas chewed the inside of his cheek. “The thing is, I’m not against getting into a relationship. I mean, you’re a great guy, but . . . you’re so obviously not ready for this.”
Nate’s features hardened. So did his voice. “How is that your decision?”
Lucas pushed his shoulders back. “It’s my decision what I hitch my wagon to. And I’ve already been through two divorces. I know a sinking ship when I see one.”
“A sinking—” Nate’s jaw fell open. “What are you talking about? Everything is great between us.”
“Except it’s not just us. Personally, I don’t want to get tangled up with someone who’s just looking to ignore someone else.”
“That’s insane. I’m not—”
“Nate, we met because you wanted to cover up that tattoo. And somehow, instead of doing the cover-up, I ended up being the cover-up.” Shaking his head, Lucas put up his hands. “I’ll be a lot of things, but I’m no one’s Band-Aid.”
Nate’s eyes widened. “Lucas, that’s not—”
“Don’t.” Lucas shook his head again. “Let’s not drag this out, okay?”
“Can we at least talk about it?”
“We are. And I’ve said my piece.” Lucas’s throat tightened. “I’m sorry. I . . .” No, don’t say I love you. That’ll only make things worse. Swallowing hard, he avoided Nate’s eyes. “I have to go.”
Nate took a step toward him, and Lucas stiffened. Their eyes locked. With an arm’s length between them, they were both still and silent, the air crackling with everything that probably needed to be said and a whole lot more that definitely didn’t need to be.
I love you. Fuck. I am so crazy in love with you.
Lucas forced back the lump in his throat, and he managed to pull in enough breath to whisper, “I need to go. I think you need me to go.”
Nate winced, breaking eye contact. “Lucas, we can—”
“No. We can’t.” Lucas sniffed, and instantly regretted it. No way in hell was he breaking. Not here. Not now. “And after the way things went down yesterday, you can’t convince me you’re over your ex. Not nearly over him enough for . . . for this.”
“Don’t you think that’s for me to decide?” Nate snapped.
Lucas jumped.
Nate deflated, resting a hip against the counter and sighing. “I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s for you to decide,” Lucas said. “But it’s for me to decide if I’m going to stick around. And I can’t.”
Nate pressed his lips together tightly, but he didn’t look at Lucas and didn’t say anything.
Lucas couldn’t think of a damned thing to say that wouldn’t make things worse. Or give Nate an angle to talk him out of this.
So he didn’t say anything.
He turned around, walked out of the kitchen, picked up his bag, and left.
He made it halfway down the road before he had to pull over. He didn’t cry. Not yet. That was coming, he was sure of it, but right now, he was just tired.
That which doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.
But I kind of wish this would kill me.
At least then it wouldn’t hurt.
He let his head fall back against the seat and stared out at the road. People were shuffling out to their cars, coffee cups in hand, and someone was wandering out in his bathrobe to pick up the newspaper off the driveway. Life went on as normal all around him.
Which reminded him that his life was going to go on too. Without Nate, and at least for a while with this brutal ache in his chest, it would go on whether he liked it or not. Wallowing wasn’t an option.
Because wasn’t it just his luck he had to work two of his three jobs today?
Sighing, he put his car back in gear and continued down the road.
Chapter 25
For the longest time, Nate watched the empty doorway Lucas had gone through.
What the fuck? Okay, so yesterday had been rough, but that had nothing to do with Lucas. And it wasn’t like he’d ditched Lucas at the barbecue—Lucas had all but pushed him out the door and told him to go take as much time as he’d needed. Then last night, once they’d fucked, the universe had felt all right again.
Until now.
Disbelief gave way to anger. Gritting his teeth, Nate glared at the doorway. Everything between them had been great. It had been perfect. After a rough afternoon, he’d found himself back in Lucas’s arms, and everything had been exactly the way it needed to be.
Until . . .
You know what, Lucas? Fuck you.
He cursed under his breath and headed for the bedroom to get ready for work. He didn’t know how he was going to concentrate in the air today, but damn if he wouldn’t find a way. He had to. Caleb had already cost him on the job. Lucas wasn’t going to do the same.
Get dressed. Go to work. Fly. Come home. Then get rid of anything that reminds me of Caleb or Lucas. Maybe go get a drink and find another piece of ass to—
That thought gave him pause and in fact stopped him in his tracks as he was lacing up his boots. Another guy? No way. Bad, bad, bad idea. Because look how the last “new guy to get over the old one” had worked out.
Maybe he needed a break. Just focus on finally getting the stupid house sold. Spend some time at home. Hang out with the squadron when he needed some human contact. No bars. No Grindr. No hookups. Nothing. Gi
ven how raw he’d felt since he’d watched Daniel propose to Colin yesterday, he definitely still had some open wounds that needed attention before he jumped into anything—even a bed—with anyone new.
Right now, he felt like he was back to square one. All the way back to January, when he’d busted Caleb in this very bedroom. Since then, Nate had done everything he could to avoid even thinking about Caleb, and if losing it on the beach had been any indication, all that avoidance hadn’t gotten him any closer to better. All those feelings were there, just waiting for Nate to break down and feel them.
As he was changing clothes, an all too familiar shape caught his eye in the mirror.
The tiger.
Nate’s heart flipped. His stomach turned to lead.
He approached the mirror slowly. Warily. Almost like the tiger would actually leap off his arm, out of the reflection, and finish him off.
He traced his fingers over the long-healed but faintly raised outline. Hadn’t Lucas said it would be a tough one to cover? That the thick black lines would be difficult to blend into a new design, and he might need to just laser them off before putting down some new ink?
But he’d never been able to bring himself to get it lasered off. And even now, he wasn’t sure he could. It felt . . . wrong. Like it would’ve made as much sense to toss a match into their house and let the whole place burn. It might’ve been cathartic in the moment, but once the smoke had cleared, things would be gone that couldn’t be replaced. There’d be nothing left but a smoldering crater, which would be an even bigger reminder of how things had ended. The house, the tattoo, Nate’s name—they were all scraps of the life he’d built with Caleb. The discolored remains of a scorched tattoo would, like the burned-out shell of a house, only commemorate the end.
He covered part of the tattoo with his hand, almost like he was trying to protect it. Or just feel it. Feel something.
“Why the hell is yours all healed while mine’s itchy as fuck?” he’d grumbled while he’d put lotion on the healing scab.
Caleb had laughed, wrapping his arms around Nate’s waist and pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Dumb luck, I guess. But it looks good.”
