Chapter Seven
Later that night, the air at the warehouse buzzed with noise and heat.
The Pathfinders and Black Tide had claimed every corner—gear stacked, weapons laid out, laughter rolling over the concrete.
Bateman had declared the real planning would start in the morning.
Tonight was for beer, food, and figuring out how two very different crews would mesh together.
Kai noticed Hogan had been quiet all evening. Cold, even. Each time he asked something, Hogan shut him down—not cruelly, but firmly enough that it stung. They ate dinner at one of the long steel benches, banter carrying around them, but Hogan’s silence burned louder than the noise.
When Hogan finally pushed back his chair, his voice cut across the chatter. “Kai and I are heading back to camp.”
The table went quiet for a beat, then Ricky grinned. “Already? Didn’t take you long. Guess we know who’s getting lucky tonight.”
Dale smirked, arms folded across his broad chest. “Yeah, Hogan always did prefer an early night when there was a warm body involved.”
The jokes died quick when they caught Hogan’s face—stone-serious, eyes shadowed. The grin slipped off Dale’s mouth. Ricky raised his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. No harm meant.”
Dale shifted, arms dropping, his voice lower now. “Sorry, man. I was just being a dick.” He turned to look at him. “Hogan ain’t like that Kai, I promise.”
Hogan spat back, sharp, “Damn right I’m not.”
Dale gave a short nod. “Yeah. I know. My bad.”
Ricky chimed in quickly, hands still up. “Yeah, me, too. Didn’t mean anything by it. Should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
Kai, already pissed at being iced out all evening, leaned back and let the words slip sharp.
“Obviously I know that already, but if you two laughing hyenas wanna laugh at the expense of my pain, go for it. And you,” he pointed at Hogan, “you are no doubt looking for alone time. Go on, Hogan. Don’t let me hold you up. ”
Hogan stepped into him, close enough that Kai could feel the heat off his chest. “No. We need to talk.”
“Now you wanna talk?” Kai snapped. “We had all fucking day to do that.”
“Not about this,” Hogan said, low and even. “What I have to say needs to be said in private.”
“And what if, after today’s cold shoulder, I just don’t want to listen to you.”
Hogan’s voice dropped, steady but frayed at the edges.
“Then don’t listen. Just ... be there beside me.
Every time I try to remember us, it’s like chasing smoke, Kai.
The headaches come and the pieces slip away before I can hold them.
I know something’s there. I know you’re there.
If we don’t talk tonight, if I don’t anchor to something real, I’m afraid it’ll all be gone again. ”
Kai’s jaw locked. Damn him for making him feel sorry for him, for making him feel empathy—for making him fucking feel! He shoved back from the bench. “Fine. Let’s go then.”
The walk to their van was short and sharp, silence stretching heavy between them.
The warehouse wasn’t far, just down a few miles north on the same stretch of native title land.
Kai climbed into the passenger seat and planted himself there, arms crossed, refusing to speak. Hogan drove without a word.
Back at their campsite, Hogan waited while Kai showered, pacing outside the bathroom door.
When Kai came out, towel slung low, Hogan wordlessly tended the wound at his side, careful hands betraying none of the frustration in his eyes.
He grabbed fresh bandages, pressed them into place, then tossed Kai a t-shirt.
Kai tugged it on, impatient. “Well? You dragged me out here. Let’s talk.”
Hogan stared at him for a long moment, then straightened. “I’m heading down for a swim first.”
Kai blinked. “A swim? Are you kidding me? I thought we were talking.”
“Later,” Hogan said simply, and walked out into the night.
Fury flared hot in Kai’s chest. He waited ten minutes. Then twenty. Then forty, pacing the length of the camper until the walls closed in. Finally, pissed enough to explode, he grabbed a torch and stomped into the dark, following the trail down to the waterfall.
The jungle wrapped close, thick with the damp smell of earth and fern.
Cicadas droned, their high-pitched buzz sawing at his nerves.
The torchlight caught slick leaves and the gleam of water on stone.
By the time he broke into the clearing, the roar of the falls was a constant, mist dampening his shirt and cooling the heat in his face.
The beam of light cut through the trees, catching Hogan sitting on a boulder at the water’s edge, shirt discarded, staring at the current like it might give him answers. The spray caught in his hair, turning it darker, making him look carved out of the night itself.
Kai stormed over, anger spilling hot. “Are you serious right now? You drag me out here after shutting me down all day, then leave me sitting there while you take a midnight swim? What the fuck, Hogan?”
Hogan didn’t move, didn’t flinch. He just stared at Kai, eyes unreadable.
Kai threw his arms wide, fury rattling loose.
“Say something, dammit! You don’t get to pull me out here and give me the silent treatment after a whole damn day of shutting me down.
You sit there like some brooding statue while I’m tearing myself inside out.
You don’t get to act like none of it matters and then suddenly decide it’s time to bare your soul on your terms. I’m not your punching bag, Hogan—I’m not here to soak up your moods until you feel like talking. You don’t get to pull me out here and—”
“Did you love me?” Hogan’s words cut clean through his rant, sharp enough to stop him cold.
“What?”
“Did. You. Love me.”
The night dropped quiet but for the rush of the falls. The air smelled of damp moss and stone, cool mist ghosting over his skin. Kai’s chest heaved. He could lie, but the truth pressed hot behind his ribs.
“Yes.”
Hogan rose slowly, water lapping at his calves. “Did I love you?”
Kai crossed his arms, chin lifting in defiance. “You said you did. I believed you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hogan stepped closer, voice rough. “Why didn’t you tell me that I loved you?”
Kai’s throat worked. “Because you can’t tell someone they love you. That’s not how it works.”
Hogan’s gaze locked on his. “Then tell me why you didn’t tell me you still love me.”
Kai’s chest tightened. He blustered, words breaking. “Maybe I don’t.”
“The hell you don’t.” Hogan closed the space between them, heat and conviction in every line of him. “You fucking do. I’ll prove it to you.”
And then Hogan kissed him.
The falls roared around them, spray dampening their clothes, the scent of rain-soaked rock in every breath.
Kai’s fists curled tight at his sides, not sure whether to shove him away or drag him closer.
Hogan’s mouth was demanding, desperate, as if the kiss itself could anchor the memories he couldn’t quite reach. And for a heartbeat, Kai let it.
****
Hogan’s mouth pressed against Kai’s, and for a beat it was like finding something he’d lost and didn’t know he needed. The shock of how right it felt slammed into him—familiar and brand-new at the same time. His pulse hammered. But Kai wasn’t kissing him back.
Frustration growled up through Hogan’s chest. He broke against Kai’s lips, rough, muttering, “Kiss me back, damn it.”
Kai shook his head, stubborn, eyes flashing in the dim light from the torch beam flickering on wet stone.
Hogan lifted his hands, cupped Kai’s face, forced him to see the truth etched in his own.
“I don’t remember everything, but I remember this—remember the feel and the taste of you.
Even if it’s only my body that knows. Don’t shut me out now.
” His voice cracked, rough as gravel. “Don’t make me fight for a memory I can’t reach. ”
He kissed him again, deeper this time, tilting his head to the angle he wanted, taking control, pouring every broken edge of himself into it. He devoured Kai, demanding, pleading, proving.
Kai resisted for a heartbeat longer—then his hands came up, sliding around Hogan’s waist, gripping his hips with rough strength. Acquiescence, sharp and hot. Hogan groaned, low and primal, and tightened his hold. The kiss caught fire, the taste of rain and salt and want consuming them both.
Kai’s body was solid against him, every inch pressed close. Hogan could feel the line of muscle, the heat of him, and then—oh, hell—Kai was hard against him, unmistakable, undeniable. His own body responded with brutal immediacy. He pressed closer, hips grinding, breath tearing out of him.
“Let me have you,” Hogan rasped against his mouth. “Please. Tonight. Will you let me?”
Kai hesitated, eyes searching his. A war flickered there, but then something steadied. He gave the smallest nod. “Yes.”
Hogan’s relief hit like oxygen. He kissed him again, urgent, and they stumbled back up the path together.
Every few steps, Hogan shoved Kai against something solid—first a tree trunk, bark rough against Kai’s shoulders as their mouths clashed, then the side of the van, the metal cool against overheated skin.
Each time they broke apart only to crash back together, arms tangled, teeth scraping, mouths hungry.
Inside the van, Kai had already pulled the bed down, covers waiting. Hogan went straight to it, yanking the blankets back with impatient hands. “Strip,” he ordered, voice rough with need. “Then get in.”
Kai’s eyes darkened, but he obeyed, pulling his shirt over his head, skin gleaming in the low light. Hogan’s breath caught. He forced himself to turn, to hit the shower, the fastest one of his life. Water sluiced over him, but it wasn’t enough to cool the fire roaring under his skin.
Still damp, half-dry, he came out with a towel around his waist, grabbed the lube from the drawer, and stalked toward the bed. Kai was waiting, sprawled and watching, every line of him taut and ready.