Chapter Six
Gavin
Gavin could smell food as soon as he opened the bathroom door. The scent of strong coffee mixed in with it and, surprisingly, his stomach didn’t protest at the idea. He wagered he’d feel differently if he smelled anything cinnamon because even the thought of those Fireball shots the night before made him flinch.
His headache had mercifully eased up, but he still felt achy all over, inside and out, really. He hadn’t been able to piece much more of the previous night together, so all he had to go on was where he and Ben had left things a week earlier. Not great. But Ben had brought him home last night, so that had to be a step in the right direction. He didn’t share the bed, though, so maybe not. Going over it all made him dizzy, so he decided to pull on some clothes and get his breakfast before going back to Tony’s.
Ben’s sweats were folded on the foot of the bed, probably an unspoken offer. Gavin had left his own things in the hamper in the bathroom out of habit, so unless he wanted to wander around naked while he washed his clothes, he didn’t have much choice. He had to roll the cuffs a couple of inches and cinch the drawstring around his waist, but at least his ass wasn’t hanging out. Much.
As he came into the little dining area by the deck, Ben was setting the plates on the table. “Mom called, wants you to call her back.”
Gavin sat down in his usual spot and took a sip from the water by his plate. He didn’t respond at first. He fought his emotions as he thought about Ben’s family. He was going to miss them almost as much as he missed Ben. Nora, Ben’s mother, had taken him into her fold from the first moment they’d met. Gavin had always assumed she had a soft spot for strays, and Gavin fit the bill. But they shared a sense of humor, an obsession for cooking, and mostly they shared a deep and fierce love for Ben. Nora would sit for hours and talk about Ben, what he was like as a boy, what Ben’s father was like too. She even told him stories about Hunter and shared the burden of her grief with Gavin in a way Ben could never bring himself to do. Nora was a soft counter to Ben’s stoicism when it came to painful memories.
“I didn’t think I could keep her if I didn’t get to keep you.”
Ben glanced up from his breakfast. “You don’t know her as well I thought you did, then.” He softened his tone and added, “She loves you, Gav. No matter what happens, that’s never changing.”
Gavin only nodded in response at first. He picked at his breakfast and couldn’t help a breathy laugh when he noticed the toast. He poked a charred piece and then held it in front of him. It even smelled like charcoal. “It’s not that hard, Ben. Just set it to three and wait for it to pop up.”
The hopeful look in Ben’s eyes at the old tease made Gavin hurt more somehow. He wasn’t the one who ended things. He didn’t decide he was done with their life and walk out the door one day. Why the hell did Ben look so relieved?
“Credit for trying?” Ben asked, seeming to relax slightly, seeming totally oblivious to Gavin’s pain. When Gavin didn’t respond, Ben asked, “How’s your head?”
Glad for the safe territory, Gavin swallowed the bite in his mouth before he answered. “Still a little foggy, but I don’t feel like someone’s trying to drive a railroad spike through my brain anymore.”
“That’s a start.” Ben was quiet for a moment as they ate. Before either of them had finished, he asked, “Did you learn your lesson?”
Gavin narrowed his eyes, his hackles rising. “Did you?”
“I wasn’t the one falling down drunk at the bar last night.”
He should probably feel abashed, or at least a little contrite, but instead Ben’s words rankled. “What exactly were you doing there, then, and who the hell are you to judge?” His appetite had vanished, so he hopped up and took his plate to the kitchen, dumping the contents into the sink. Before he could turn on the disposal, Ben stood so abruptly he nearly knocked his chair over.
“I was looking for you.” Ben growling was never a good sign. When he yelled, you were usually on safe ground, but that scary—albeit sexy—growl? Ben was on the verge of putting his fist through a wall. Or someone’s head, depending on how pissed he was.
Apparently Gavin’s survival instincts were sleeping in. “Well, ya found me. Congratulations, Sherlock.”
He’d never seen Ben turn purple before. He’d also never noticed the vein in his neck stand out so high. Ben was either about to knock him out or give himself a heart attack by trying to resist the urge.
Before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door. They both jumped, but Ben put his hand up, pointing a finger at Gavin. “We’re not done with this.” He stalked over to the door and jerked it open so hard, Gavin worried for the hinges.
Tony looked ready to duck when Ben towered over him. Gavin came closer to give him a little backup, but Tony still seemed like he wanted to bolt. For a flash of a second, Gavin felt pity for his best friend, but when he noticed his own bag slung over Tony’s shoulder, a box in his arms, and a few more sitting on the ground by his feet—all of them Gavin’s—his concern for Tony took a sharp turn toward irritation.
“You’re kicking me out now?” What the hell was going on?
Tony pushed in when Ben stepped aside. “I’m not kicking you out, Gav. Ben wants you to come home. You want to go home. This is stupid.” He set the box down in the middle of the living room and tossed Gavin’s duffel onto the couch. “If you guys can’t work your shit out, you’ve always got a place to stay—hell, we’ll get a bigger apartment and sign a lease and everything. But at least try.” He toed the other boxes through the door as he spoke.
Gavin should’ve guessed Tony would feel that way, and, damn it, it made sense, but something about being passed back and forth between the two of them like an unwanted puppy made Gavin want to choke them both. “Am I allowed any say in this? Is there ever gonna come a point where I get to decide where I live or what I do with my life?” He hadn’t realized he was yelling at first, but once he let it out, it felt pretty damn good. “For Christ’s sake!”
Tony glanced from Gavin to Ben—who stood stone-still, listening as the muscle in his jaw jumped and twitched. For a minute, Tony looked like he might say something, argue or agree, Gavin had no idea.
In the end Tony took a step back and said, “Gimme a call later and let me know what’s going on so I can get your car back to ya.” He looked straight into Gavin’s eyes, held his gaze for a long moment as if he was trying to convey something deeper, but Gavin couldn’t figure out what it was. “I’ve been your best friend since the day we met, Gav. I only want what’s right for you.”
When he turned and walked out, Gavin slammed the door behind him. “Maybe I’m the one who should decide what’s right for me.”
Ben stood with his arms crossed over his chest, still looking like he was chewing on a rock. When Gavin kicked one of the boxes across the room—stubbing his toe in the process—Ben finally spoke. “Maybe you should act like you’re capable of that first.”
He rounded on Ben. “Quit treating me like I’m a child.”
“I never said th—”
“First you tell me I’m too young for you, then you tell me what classes I should take in school, that I need to do something more with my life, that I need to get out more, then you tell me we need to see other people….” What had started out as a rant at high volume faded with every word. As he put it all together, Gavin tipped his head to the side and studied Ben for a moment. “You didn’t want to see other people. You just wanted me to.”