First Impressions

by Jay Hogan

  Oh God. “Tell me,” Josh ordered.

  Cam sighed. “Understand this is my take on what he said, okay? There was nothing direct.”

  Josh nodded.

  “I think Michael really fell for you but, and I’m reading between the lines here, he either didn’t think it was mutual or he didn’t think he could offer what you wanted. And I thought you’d moved on, with that guy who was here, when Sasha hurt her ankle?”

  Josh sighed. “He was just a friend.”

  Cam hesitated. “Michael didn’t seem to think so.”

  “That’s because I was being an idiot. I let him think….” Josh shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It was just… complicated.”

  Cam nodded. “Okay. None of my business. But Michael really loved your kid, you do know that, right? I don’t imagine it ever occurred to him not to take her place that day.”

  “That was never in question.”

  “Good. I take it you know what happened in his old hospital?”

  Again, Josh nodded.

  “Well I don’t think he ever really got over that. Maybe he just needs more time.”

  “But the drinking….”

  Cam shrugged. “You got me there. Not a good omen, huh? Still, that’s his shit to work out. Not sure you could help with that.”

  Josh sat in silence, trying to find a glimmer of hope in anything he’d been told. His anger drifted, replaced by a mounting deadness in his chest.

  It was Cam who broke the quiet. “I saw you at the club a couple of weeks ago. We’d taken Michael. He’d been wandering around the ER snarling at anyone who looked at him sideways and generally being a right dick. I told him he needed to get laid.” He fired Josh an apologetic look. “I didn’t know at the time how serious you guys were.”

  Josh replied with a weak grin. “Seems he took your advice. He was pretty cosy with some guy when I saw him.”

  “Yeah, about that. I don’t know what difference it makes, but according to Michael nothing happened with any guy that night. He took off not long after you.”

  Josh didn’t know what to do with that.

  Cam stood and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve gotta go, sorry, but don’t be a stranger. Bring that girl of yours back for a visit when you think she can cope. Let me know and I’ll have ice cream waiting.”

  This time Josh hauled Cam into a quick hug. “Will do and thanks, for everything.”

  Cam nodded. “Stay as long as you like.”

  Left alone, Josh took a few minutes to think. Michael had left, without a word, an email, nothing. Fucking unbelievable. And he was apparently drinking again. Goddammit. And yet Josh ached for him. What was the man thinking beating himself up like that? He’d saved Sasha. In Josh’s eyes he was a fucking hero. He had to be in a bad place, and yes, Josh felt some responsibility for that. He’d left Michael erroneously thinking Josh was with Brent, thinking he couldn’t go to him. Josh had fucked up. He could’ve been there for Michael if he hadn’t been lost up his own arsehole. Shit. What the hell was he going to tell Sasha?

  He grabbed his coat and headed home. He needed to find Michael but he wasn’t sure how. No one was giving him what he needed and Michael didn’t want to be found, he’d made that clear. For all that, Josh wasn’t giving up, no fucking way, but he needed to get Sasha in a better place first. And maybe give Michael time to get his head together about the drinking—that was something Michael couldn’t save him from. What to do about his battered, fucked-up heart, and the troubled gorgeous man responsible for it would just have to wait a little longer.

  Four months later.

  MICHAEL STEPPED out of the shower and wrapped the “soft as a duck’s butt” towel around his waist. Not usually a linen snob, thick soft towels had apparently become a “thing” of his now. That Josh stocked the same towels had nothing to do with it, of course. The scent of coffee brewing wafted from downstairs and something that smelled encouragingly like pancakes. His stomach rumbled.

  On his morning run he’d taken the longer route to clear his head and let the shit up there settle. His sleep had been broken by a nightmare that left him feeling less than chipper and with a few cobwebs that needed seeing to. He’d succeeded, mostly. He’d even managed to straighten the duvet and fluff his pillows so at least it didn’t look as if he’d played host to half the club they’d all danced at the night before. If only.

  He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d been clubbing since he’d arrived back in LA, and most of them at the behest of friends who were worried about him. He welcomed their concern, but if they thought they were doing him a favour trying to get him laid, they were sorely disappointed. That ship hadn’t sailed in quite a while. His thoughts drifted to a certain dog handler. Nope, he wasn’t going there either.

  He threw on some clothes and sorted a pile of laundry. It had taken everything Michael had not to go completely fucking off the rails after Sasha’s kidnapping. The relief he’d felt at securing her release had been short-lived, overwhelmed by the terror of facing his own death and the swarm of emotions that went along with that confronting thought.

  For the first time, he’d faced the reality of the emptiness of his own life, and it wasn’t pretty. So he’d sought that same brainless relief he’d found before in a bottle, not every night and not to the point of being stupid drunk, but more times than was healthy. He knew exactly what he was doing, and the fact he couldn’t seem to talk himself out of it had scared him shitless.

  He’d needed to get out, to leave. If he hadn’t, he would’ve lost himself completely, and there was no way in hell he was going down that road again. And though they’d probably never know, it simply wasn’t in Michael to disappoint Josh and Sasha any further. They’d believed in him, at least for a while. He might be a fuck-up, but he finally believed he had it in him to change.

  To that end he caught the first flight he could and headed back to LA. That he’d left without talking to Josh and Sasha was his one regret. At the time, though, he just didn’t know how he’d survive seeing the guy again and saying goodbye. At some point he’d face that particular demon, but he hadn’t quite found the courage yet.

  On arrival, the first thing Michael did was quit drinking and find a therapist. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he couldn’t do it on his own. Tried that one already. The most important thing he’d discovered from the whole debacle with Josh was what he wanted in life. And surprise, surprise, it was a life with a guy he loved and maybe even a family—a fucking picket fence. More importantly, he was beginning to believe he was actually capable of having that life, maybe even deserved it. His therapist, he had to give the woman props, was pushing hard on that particular point.

  In LA, Michael was welcomed back into his old hospital a month after landing. A step down from his old job, but he didn’t care, not really. His new/old boss knew about his recent brief slip in sobriety, and after a few sideways looks and an exchange of calls with Michael’s therapist, he’d agreed to a two-month probation including random testing, in return for a future full contract. Three months on, and it felt damn good to be back at work, a distraction from the grief that welled up periodically when Michael’s thoughts turned to Josh.

  He’d spoken to Mark a few times, and the man had reassured him Josh and Sasha were doing well after a rocky first couple of weeks. He’d gone so far as to tell Michael that Brent wasn’t in the picture with Josh, or at least as far as Mark knew. He’d sounded surprised that Michael had thought he was. And he tried damned hard to get Michael to call Josh or to at least to let Mark give Josh his contact details, but Michael had said no. The same when Cam pushed. Michael just wasn’t ready. Brent or no Brent, he had shit he needed to sort out: the drinking, his life, and what he wanted out of it. He wanted more than just stability. He wanted to feel he was moving forward again. But if what Mark had said was true, maybe he’d give Josh a ring sooner than he’d planned.

  He grabbed the pile of washing and threw it in
the laundry before making his way to the kitchen to see what was cooking. Lorde was playing at damn near full volume, of course she was, just another unwelcome reminder of New Zealand.

  Michael paused in the doorway, taking a minute to study the handsome man cooking at his stove, bopping away to the music, wearing an apron and waving a spatula over his head. The guy was an intoxicating blend of lean muscle and sensuality. Michael reached to turn the volume down a bit on the speaker dock on the counter.

  “Too damn cute.” He chuckled.

  The other man startled and spun, a searing blush racing across his cheeks. Then he narrowed his gaze and sashayed that cute butt right over to Michael.

  “Hiya, good-looking.” He planted a kiss on Michael’s cheek. “Thought you were never going to get out of that shower.” The man sashayed back to the stove, giving Michael a booty shake for good measure, a born tease.

  Michael grinned. “With pancakes and bacon in the air? You’ve got to be joking.”

  The other man rolled his eyes. “Ugh. Cupboard love, I knew it. Men only want me for my skills at beating and making sweet things rise.” He grinned lasciviously.

  Michael snorted.

  “Pancakes better be the only thing rising in here,” a voice warned seconds before its owner joined them. Cliff Stewart was a tall, rangy man with golden locks that cascaded to his shoulders and a pair of wicked blue eyes packed full of mischief.

  Michael hugged the newcomer. “Hey there, you.” Simon had done well for himself with Cliff, and Michael couldn’t be happier for them both.

  The ease between the three men had been hard-won, and three months ago, Michael wouldn’t have taken a bet that they’d even be able to inhabit the same room together. Simon had been more than a little leery of the contact Michael had initiated on his return. Cliff even more so. But Michael had meant it when he’d committed to apologising to Simon for how he’d ended things between them.

  Still, it had taken a fair few long discussions, with Michael doing most of the talking to clear the air, and Cliff had been present at them all. He was a far better match for Simon than Michael had ever been. Michael even opened up about Josh and Sasha and how he’d fucked up that relationship as well. Eventually they all decided to bury the flogged horse once and for all and move on. And in an unexpected move, Simon suggested trying to build a friendship between all three of them, and even more surprisingly, Cliff had backed the suggestion. Michael was incredibly humbled and grateful.

  From there they’d fallen into a routine of a shared brunch together most Sundays, sometimes with friends, more often at a café but occasionally at one of their homes, like today. And just last week they’d celebrated Simon and Cliff’s engagement. Their unusual friendship worked. It shouldn’t, but it did, and watching Simon working in his kitchen as if it were his own, Michael was just so damned thankful for it.

  He leaned over the bacon on the stove and inhaled deeply. “God, that smells good.” He grabbed a cup and angled for the coffee machine, but before he got there, Simon pulled him in for a dance.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Cliff grumbled from the doorway. “We have got to get you a boyfriend of your own, Michael, so you stop damn well borrowing mine.”

  Michael threw up his hands. “He threw himself at me. Can’t help that I’m irresistible.”

  Simon whacked his ass with the spatula. “In your dreams. That ship sailed a long time ago.” He launched himself into his fiancé’s arms in a full-frontal lip attack.

  Michael grinned. “Don’t you dare burn the bacon.” He poured his coffee and leaned back against the bench as his ex and his new fiancé made out less than two feet away. Yep, parallel universe material.

  The chime of the doorbell broke up the lip-fest and Michael put his coffee down to answer it.

  Cliff stayed him. “I’ll get it. Drink your coffee.”

  Simon put the last of the pancakes to cool on the rack and turned off the stove. Then he removed his apron and pulled Michael into a fierce hug.

  Michael tentatively returned the embrace, wondering what the fuck was going on. “What am I missing here?” he asked over the man’s shoulders.

  “Just remember we love you,” Simon said, not releasing the hug.

  “Ah, guys?” Cliff’s voice carried from the hall. “You might want to break up the love-fest, yeah?”

  Michael turned, and his mouth ran to dust, his chest tightened, and every scrap of grief and longing he’d felt over the last four, no five months, rose and filled his throat full enough to choke him. Silence crowded the room as he struggled to find his voice. Shit. Finding his legs would be a start.

  In the end all he could manage was, “Josh?”

  In the dining room, Josh appeared tense, red-cheeked, and seemingly desperate to be anywhere else. And so, so fucking beautiful that Michael wanted to haul him into his arms and kiss him senseless.

  “Ah… maybe this… um… maybe it wasn’t such a good idea,” Josh stammered, taking a step back. “I, ah… I shouldn’t have come. Sorry.” He spun to leave, but Cliff held him in place.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” the tall man reassured him.

  Still in shock, Michael couldn’t have spoken a word to save himself, his brain having slid sideways out of reach. Simon had dropped his arms from Michael’s waist, now busy regarding Josh with open interest. Yeah, welcome to the twilight zone for exes, Michael thought.

  Cliff regarded the two of them and simply shook his head. “That handsy idiot next to Michael is Simon, my fiancé and Michael’s ex,” he explained, picking up the slack, and Michael thanked Christ someone had his brain screwed into the right socket. “Though he may not be for long if he doesn’t pick his tongue up off the floor,” Cliff added with a grin.

  Simon blushed and rolled his eyes at his fiancé. “I’m engaged, not brain-dead,” he huffed. “And the guy’s freaking gorgeous, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Cliff grinned widely. “Not saying I hadn’t noticed, sweetheart. I’m just not offering to have his children, unlike some.”

  Simon snorted. “As if. There’s only one man in the running for that job, babe.”

  Cliff blushed a deep crimson and his eyes lit up.

  Michael narrowed his gaze at his ex. “You knew about this?”

  Simon shrugged. “Knew, invited, plotted, planned… splitting hairs really.”

  Michael glared in response, and Simon beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen, grabbed his coat, and threw Cliff’s to him. Then he stuck out a hand for Josh to shake. “Pleased to finally meet you,” he said. “Love to stay and chat, but we have to run… like right now.” He tugged at Cliff’s shirt. “As in now, baby.”

  Cliff startled. “Oh, right. Yep, we’ve gotta go. Got… um… some friends to meet. Yeah. At um… a café?” He glanced at Simon, who rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah, babe, at a café.” Simon stroked his fiancé’s cheek affectionately, then pulled him to the front door. “Have fun, you two,” he threw over his shoulder before disappearing in a cloud of devious haste.

  That left Michael and Josh staring at one another.

  IT WAS Josh who broke first, a slightly hysterical laugh erupting from his throat. Christ almighty. After a twelve-hour flight, an endless cab ride, and the shock of finally seeing Michael but in someone else’s arms, Josh was finally face-to-face with the subject of every thought and fantasy that had occupied his mind over the last four months.

  He hadn’t given up on Michael but Sasha had taken a while to truly settle and Josh had been reluctant to rock that boat, to give her any hope before he thought she could handle it if it didn’t pan out. She’d asked about Michael constantly, and through a dropped hint from Mark, Josh had finally nailed the hospital where Michael now worked and had a contact number there to try. He was about to make his move when out of the blue, Mark passed on a request from Simon, Michael’s ex, to get in contact. The man had emailed the Auckland Police department in order to get the note passed on.

 
; That had thrown Josh. Were they back together? Was he being warned off? In the end the opposite had proved to be the case.

  Simon wanted Josh to visit Michael, convinced they might have a future. That Michael talked about him all the time. That Simon had heard from Michael that Josh was perhaps still single. That threw Josh as well. He knew the lie Josh had allowed.

  Simon reassured Josh that Michael was sober, in therapy, and had been from the minute he’d set foot back in the country. Josh’s relief and the surge of hope had been immediate and overwhelming. The fact that Michael had moved to heal his relationship with his ex was also a welcome surprise. Everything boded well, but nothing was guaranteed. Michael still might not want anything Josh had to offer. But he was going to try.

  And so this reunion Josh had so much hope for, one he’d imagined fraught with apologies, explanations, and please God, hope, now appeared well on the way to derailment. Jet-lagged and seemingly unable to extricate himself from the stream of crazy flowing from his mouth, all Josh could do was flop against the wall and close his eyes in an effort to summon his sanity. The last thing he saw was Michael regarding him warily as Josh had lost his freaking mind. Maybe he had.

  Maybe he also should’ve talked to Michael first, before arriving. But Simon had thought it would be best if Josh just fronted up. And so he’d done just that. But had Simon been wrong? Did Michael not want him here? Had Josh fucked up well and truly? He needed to open his eyes, but, honestly, he didn’t want to. He was too terrified of what he’d find in Michael’s gaze.

  A shadow fell across Josh’s face and his skin tingled. Warmth cloaked the front of his body, close but not touching, the familiar aroma of orange and spice with that ridiculous back note of antiseptic flooding his senses.

  He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Michael, standing so close he could almost taste him on his tongue. Michael cupped his face, studied him hard. And Josh’s knees damn near caved at the feel of those hands on him once again, like he could finally breathe for the first time in months. Then Michael smiled, and warmth exploded in Josh’s chest.