A Fallen Heart

by Cate Ashwood

  “It’s incredible.”

  “Thanks. I went straight from living with my parents to living in the barracks, and after spending so long in the Army, living in places that never felt like home, I wanted a place that felt like mine,” Nash said, walking over to stand beside Ford. He turned, mirroring Ford’s stance, leaning close enough that their shoulders touched.

  He could feel Nash looking at him, observing and appraising, even though Ford didn’t meet his gaze.

  “How about I make you something to eat?” Nash suggested.

  “You did say you had a well-stocked kitchen.” Ford wasn’t hungry. The thought of food, which was usually one of his very favorite things, held no appeal, but if Nash was cooking, then he wouldn’t be staring at Ford, concern and caring written all over his face.

  “I do. Sit down and get comfortable. The remote is on the coffee table if you want to watch TV. It won’t take long.”

  “What are we having?” Ford asked.

  “Spaghetti carbonara sound okay to you?”

  “It’s not even noon yet.” Ford had to double-check as he glanced at the clock illuminated in white numbers on the cable box. It was barely eleven o’clock. It felt closer to six.

  “Breakfast, then?” Nash suggested. “I know we already had waffles, but breakfast is good any time of the day.”

  Greystones seemed like another lifetime ago. “Actually, spaghetti carbonara sounds perfect. Can I help?” Ford asked.

  “Nope, just sit for a few minutes. I’ll bring it in when it’s ready.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE FRAGRANT scents of bacon and garlic quickly filled Nash’s kitchen. Spaghetti carbonara was a dish he’d cooked probably a thousand times. It was quick and simple, provided he didn’t accidentally end up scrambling the eggs—something he’d done more than once. Ultimately, it was comfort food at its finest.

  As he set to separating the egg yolks from the whites, the morning replayed in his mind. Nash knew that, despite Ford’s anger with Jack and the sadness he’d let show with Sam, he hadn’t been fully hit by Joel’s loss yet. It was coming. Nash knew it was. If Ford would let him, he would be there to help gather up the pieces of Ford’s broken heart and glue it back together. For now he would make sure he was fed. Food was the best balm for the soul there was.

  He mixed everything together and plated it up. He’d made enough for four people, and carbonara was not known to reheat well, but there was nothing to be done about that now.

  Nash carried the heaping plates into the dining room and placed them on the table. Ford rose from the sofa and joined Nash at the opposite side of the table.

  “It smells amazing,” Ford said, picking up his cutlery and swirling some of the noodles onto his fork. “Thank you for making me lunch.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  They ate in silence, Nash digging in and Ford picking at his own, but they both managed to polish off most of what was on their plates.

  Pasta eaten, Nash returned to the kitchen to put away the leftovers and deal with the dishes. Ford walked in right after him and rinsed his plate in the sink before bending to place it in the dishwasher. He walked over to where Nash was soaking the large pot in the sink, and Nash felt Ford’s hands trailing down his stomach, stopping on the front of his pants.

  Ford slid the button through the hole and pulled the flaps of his jeans open.

  Suddenly nerves took hold, which was uncharted territory for Nash. He hadn’t been nervous about sex since he was a teenager, fumbling around in the dark and hoping not to get caught, but the day had gone so spectacularly sideways for Ford, and Nash was aware of how emotional and vulnerable he was.

  Topping that off with uncertainty about where they stood with one another meant that all Nash wanted to do was take him to bed and never let him leave, but the more logical side of his brain warned him to tread carefully. There was a very thin line between being what Ford needed and taking advantage. It was a line Nash wanted very much not to cross.

  “Ford, maybe we shouldn’t today….”

  Ford’s hands dropped, and Nash turned, prepared to see hurt or dejection on Ford’s face. What he didn’t expect was anger as Ford backed up.

  “I’m not incapable of making my own decisions.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I think… today was tough, and maybe the reasons—”

  “Today was outstandingly fucked up. I feel like I’ve been beat to shit, and I want to forget feeling like this for a while. I know you can make me forget, so I’m asking you, Nash, to fuck me until everything else is wiped away. Can you do that for me or not?”

  It took about a third of a second for Nash to make that decision. He turned off the water that was still running in the sink next to him and dried his hands, then stalked forward. He saw Ford swallowing hard as he approached.

  Nash reached out, sliding his hands, just barely, along Ford’s sides, skimming his rib cage, down to his hips. Gripping the bottom of Ford’s shirt, he lifted it, pulling it up and off. He trailed the backs of his knuckles down Ford’s stomach, watching the muscles jump at his touch.

  Ford reached for him, running his shaking hands up Nash’s chest as Nash unbuttoned Ford’s pants and pushed them down over his hips. Ford stepped out of them, and he stood there, naked and exposed in Nash’s kitchen, his body trembling. Nash could feel the little quakes as he ran his palms over Ford’s back, pulling him in, molding him against his own body. Ford’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard enough for Nash to get the message.

  He dipped his head, capturing Ford’s mouth, pressing their lips together, reluctance and hesitance having gone completely. Ford opened for him, and Nash slid their tongues together, swallowing the sound of Ford’s moan as he bowed against him. Nash caught him, one arm around his waist, eliminating the last of the space between them while Nash attempted to obliterate Ford’s mind with that simple kiss.

  Nash could feel Ford’s erection pressing against his own equally hard cock. He could hear the desperate sounds and begging whimpers that rose from Ford’s throat. Each movement, each noise pushed heat and desire through Nash. He’d wanted Ford since the first time he’d seen him, and the desire for him had only increased since.

  Reaching down, he slid his hands under Ford’s bare ass, lifting him easily off the floor. Without breaking the kiss, Ford wrapped his arms tightly around Nash’s shoulders, his legs around Nash’s waist, and Nash walked them to the bedroom. With each step, Nash’s desperation grew. Ford was naked and willing in his arms, and if he didn’t get inside him soon, he was going to lose his mind.

  He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Ford closer to him, forcing him to rut up against Nash’s stomach. Ford rocked into him, kissing him hard and groaning as Nash reached around, rubbing two fingers at Ford’s entrance. When his movements became frenzied, Nash tossed Ford down against the soft duvet, Ford’s head hitting the pillows and sinking in as he tore his shirt over his head, then stepped out of his pants.

  “Turn over and hold on to the headboard,” Nash commanded, stroking his cock as he stood at the foot of the bed.

  Ford scrambled to his knees and did as he was told, his grip on the top of the wooden frame tight enough that Nash could see his knuckles turn white.

  He was so beautiful, spread out like that. Nash wanted to take a few moments to appreciate the view. He’d never seen anything so goddamn stunning. His back curved, his body begging, Ford looked over his shoulder with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Uncertainty mixed with desperation.

  “Nash?”

  “I’m right here, baby,” he said, kneeling on the bed.

  He ran his hands along Ford’s thighs, up over his ass. Ford leaned into the touch, and Nash moved closer, folding his body over Ford’s, his knees pushing Ford’s farther apart as he pressed kisses against the back of Ford’s neck.

  Ford let his head fall forward, the muscles in his shoulders and back bunching. Nash didn’t know if he’d ever get enough of Ford�
�s body, the way he moved when he was this turned on, the noises he made when he wanted Nash to touch him. It was overwhelming and completely addictive.

  Nash moved lower, kissing along Ford’s spine, enjoying the gentle curve of his arched back as he moved lower. Licking and sucking at Ford’s skin the whole way, he learned what Ford liked, changing the pressure and the intensity, listening for cues in Ford’s moans.

  Nash paused only long enough to grab lube and condoms from the bedside table before he was back. He slicked up one finger and slid it gently into Ford, watching it disappear inside his body. Ford moaned and rocked back against it, head falling forward once more as Nash added a second finger.

  He took his time, preparing Ford, making sure he was ready, because once he was inside him, it was not going to be gentle. Minutes passed, and Ford was murmuring, his words nearly incoherent and his tone pleading.

  Nash pulled his hand away and slid a condom on, slicking himself up before aligning the tip of his cock against Ford’s entrance.

  With one swift thrust, he buried himself in Ford’s body. Ford cried out, the sound needy and broken, and once more Nash molded his body against Ford’s back. Tangling his fingers in Ford’s hair, he pulled, just hard enough to sting. He forced Ford’s head back and tilted it to the side, finding Ford’s mouth with his own.

  The kisses lacked all finesse, but Nash needed that connection as he pulled back and thrust forward again, hips snapping, slamming into Ford’s body.

  “Jesus, fuck, Nash. Don’t stop.”

  Like that was ever a possibility. Nash set a brutal rhythm, gripping Ford’s hips tightly, holding him still. Nash poured everything into his movements, every ounce of worry and fear and lust. The emotions crested, and still Nash didn’t let up, pushing Ford to the very edge. It was so good, so unbelievably good. They would both be feeling this for days.

  Nash could feel his orgasm building, floating toward the surface. Letting go of one hip, he wrapped his fist around Ford’s cock instead, jacking him in rhythm. Ford cried out, his muscles spasming around Nash, pushing him right over the edge. He could feel the wet heat of Ford’s come pouring over his fingers as he emptied himself inside Ford’s body.

  Sweat and come mixed as Nash carefully pulled out and turned Ford in his arms, kissing him hard. They came down together, their chests heaving and breaths mingling.

  Nash held him close, his arms tight around Ford, as though he could hold him together through strength alone. Nash felt better, knowing Ford was there with him. He couldn’t keep the grief away forever, but he could hopefully soften the strike when it finally hit full force.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “STAY WITH me for a few days,” Nash said, punctuating his request with the press of a kiss to Ford’s back as he pulled him in, curling his body around him.

  Ford’s body tensed at the invitation. He knew Nash could probably feel it too. And what the fuck was he thinking, even considering it? He should have insisted Nash take him home after they’d left the hospital. Mixed signals were flying every which way, and the deep regret that came with a mistake this huge threatened to take hold.

  “I have a guest room if you’d be more comfortable…,” Nash continued, his voice trailing off.

  Ford knew what Nash wanted him to say. He knew what he wanted to say. But the thought of letting himself fall into a situation where he was essentially living there, to let Nash take care of him, to worry about him like that, was overwhelming. He liked Nash, almost too much.

  His head and his heart were at war on this one. On the one hand, he liked having Nash close. His skin was like a drug, and Ford couldn’t get enough. Any chance to touch him, he’d take it. He wanted to let Nash take care of him, to sink into the temporary comfort and forget about Joel’s death, but he couldn’t do that. Pretending everything was okay wouldn’t change anything, and letting himself get too lost in someone else was something he couldn’t afford to let happen again.

  “I can’t stay here because some shitty stuff happened. I have a life… responsibilities. I have to work tomorrow night,” Ford protested, but the objection was weak, and he knew Nash heard it.

  “Taking some time away from the hospital might be a good idea.”

  “I don’t need time off, and besides, they’re not going to approve holidays with this short notice.”

  “Then take a leave of absence or call in sick.”

  “I can’t call in sick. They never have enough staff to cover as it is,” Ford said. Even the muscles in his feet were tense.

  Nash continued, “And maybe if you miss a day or two, and they realize you’ve been pulling three times as much weight as you should have been, they’ll look at hiring someone else.”

  Ford sighed heavily. “Greene would never approve the budget for that.”

  “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

  “Working will take my mind off… everything. It’ll be good to be in my normal routine.”

  Nash pulled him in tighter, and Ford melted into it, adjusting his body so more of their skin was in contact. He couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t force space between them. He wanted the contact—needed it—and he didn’t possess anywhere near enough willpower to keep from basking in the beautiful warmth of Nash’s body.

  “I’m not trying to boss you around or manage your life. You’re a grown man, and your decisions are yours to make. I’ll be here for you whether you’re working or not, but I think you should give some thought to taking time off. I know it can sound like a load of bullshit, but if you don’t deal with how you’re feeling, it’s going to be worse in the long run.”

  “I hardly knew him.” Ford’s voice was so quiet he barely heard it himself.

  “I know, baby, but in the short time you did, he made an impact. I know he did. Losing Joel is going to be hard on you. Take some time to deal with that loss, and go back to work when you’re emotionally ready.”

  “I still can’t believe he’d kill himself. In reality, he only ever said a few words to me, but I’ve seen a lot of suicidal patients come through the ER, and he wasn’t like that. He’d obviously been abused, but his soul wasn’t broken.”

  The way the thought gutted him, Ford knew Nash was right. He did need to take some time off. Maybe spending time with Nash was the distraction he needed. As long as he didn’t let himself get too attached.

  It had been so long since he’d let himself enjoy being with another man. Had Peter really taken that from him?

  “I’ll stay.”

  Ford felt Nash pull back, and then his hand on Ford’s shoulder, turning him as Nash maneuvered on top of him, pressing him into the mattress and kissing him breathless.

  IT HAD been surprisingly easy to get out of the next week’s shifts. It had been so long since Ford had called in sick that he’d almost forgotten how, and it was because of that fact that his leave of absence had been granted so easily. Scheduling didn’t care, and his boss knew him well enough to know if he said he needed time off, he really needed time off.

  When he’d hung up the phone, he walked back into the bedroom where Nash was still sleeping like the dead, oblivious that Ford left in the first place. It would have been so easy to gather his things and leave, catching a cab back to his own neighborhood and his own depressingly empty apartment, and for a moment, Ford considered it.

  And then he pulled back the covers and climbed back into bed, relaxing into the heat radiating from Nash’s naked body. He closed his eyes and drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

  When they’d both woken once more, they spent the day lounging, alternating the distractions between TV and sex, sometimes both at the same time. Ford couldn’t remember a time when he’d been that fucked out and that content to sit on his ass, cuddled into someone else and doing absolutely nothing.

  He was proud of himself for spending an entire afternoon without thinking. Every time reality began creeping in, he pushed it back, turning on the next episode of Suits, and when the task proved too diffic
ult for him to manage on his own, Nash was more than willing to help out, kissing him until Ford no longer remembered his own name.

  Ford stretched out in Nash’s soft sheets that night, grateful he had given in and agreed to stay. He felt good—far better than he thought possible. Maybe a week of vegging on the couch and almost more sex than he could handle was exactly what he needed. Maybe one of the reasons he’d taken Joel’s death as hard as he had was that he was burned out to begin with. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a vacation. Come to think of it, it might have been Aaron’s high school graduation. That was almost five years earlier.

  Closing his eyes, he reveled in the feeling of Nash’s arms around him, his steady, even breaths at his back, and the deep-seated satiety that had filled him the whole day.

  Ford had anticipated an entire week of lounging and boring holes in his head with mindless TV and in his stomach with junk food. What he got instead was a man pulling him out of bed the next morning like an overexcited kid, begging him to get dressed so they could spend the day in the mountains.

  “What happened to being a fucking couch potato and not moving? What happened to building myself into a blanket cocoon on your couch?” Ford whined, going limp to keep Nash from dragging him from the bed.

  Nash chuckled and slid his arms beneath Ford’s back and legs, cradled him and carried him to the bathroom. Ford groaned, at the same time trying to tamp down his libido. Having a thing for guys that were strong enough to throw him around was not a good thing in that moment.

  Nash set him down to stand next to the shower. Ford shivered in the chilly morning air, still naked from the night before as Nash started the water, then stepped in, pulling Ford with him.

  He let Nash wash him, his body melting under Nash’s careful touch, strong hands stroking every inch of Ford until he was pliable, both physically and mentally.