Chapter Eighteen
Adam
When the knock comes after a shitty hospital meal, I’m expecting the doctor, who said he’d check back with me later. Or Mary, the overly cheerful nurse who has a bright smile and bottle-dyed flame-red hair.
“You think he’s okay?” Troy asks as the knock comes.
Could be one of the guys, since the group text has been active and some of them did ask which hospital I was in so they could stop by. Which is nice.
“I’m sure he’s fine. PJ and Fallon probably checked on him.”
As Troy goes to open the door, I concede he’s not the only one wondering about Wes. Before the three of us got thrown into that van, Troy and I were playing around. Teasing, testing, bit by bit raising the stakes to see what Wes could handle.
Getting kidnapped and having your anal virginity pounded out of you on camera? That’s beyond getting tossed into the deep end. More like getting dumped overboard and bleeding into shark-infested waters.
So, when Wes walks through the door, I think Troy and I are both shocked. Troy surges forward when he sees the guy, probably without even thinking. Troy’s always been the caretaker between us. The one who fixes things. I don’t think he knows how to fix Wes.
“How you holding up, Kitten?”
Wes’s face pretty much tells Troy to fuck off with his fake cheer.
“That’s a good question, Sugar Pie.” Wes sags against the closed door. “I don’t think I’ve decided yet.”
“You look like shit,” I tell him.
Troy comes over and whacks me on the shoulder.
“What? We all look like shit right now.” Wes really does, though.
His eyes are rimmed with red, and the dark circles underneath have only gotten darker.
His hair is sticking up in all directions.
It looks like he’s at least showered, but his slacks look like they came out of the laundry pile, and his shirt is buttoned all wrong.
“I’d offer to help you fix that shirt, but I’m kind of hooked up to an IV right now.” I raise my arm slightly to show him.
Wes looks down at himself and sighs. “Good thing I didn’t come here for help getting dressed.”
“What did you come for, then?” Troy’s failing so badly at sounding casual. His jaw is firm, and his arms are crossed over his chest.
Right now my best friend looks and sounds exactly the way he did the first and last time I took on a client without letting him know where I’d be. We’d had too many friends and acquaintances meet a bad end back in the day. At the time we needed the money, and I hadn’t been able to get word to him.
This one isn’t on Wes, though. If anything, it’s on us. We should’ve kept a better eye out.
Wes takes a few steps into the room. He presses his lips together, rolling his gaze to the ceiling as if he’s thinking. Or maybe the answer is something he doesn’t want to say out loud.
“To be honest, I’m not sure…” Wes shakes his head.
“My boss called earlier. Gave me a dressing down about missing my shift without calling in. I don’t know how to do that right now.
To respond rationally or… I don’t know how to talk to anyone or just…
go back to ‘normal’ yet. We weren’t even gone that long, but it feels like the rest of my life happened forever ago. You know?”
Troy catches my gaze, and my stomach clenches. I can relate. We both can.
Except Troy decides to be an extra-large dick and says, “After I wrecked your ass? Course not. Nobody’s the same after that.”
Mindful of the IV in my arm, I reach over and pinch the back of Troy’s hand.
“Ow.” He yanks his arm away. “What the hell was that for?”
I answer him with my eyes. He fucking knows.
To Wes I say, “We get it.”
“Yeah. I thought you would.” He sighs and sinks into a chair. I don’t miss the subtle way he winces and shifts before finding a place to settle. From the mix of concern and satisfaction on Troy’s face, he doesn’t either.
“Look, Troy and I both ran away from shitty situations. Didn’t take long to burn through our money, and we learned quick that having diabetes and living on the streets are not compatible.
We did things that were dangerous, illegal, and downright fucking appalling.
You’re entitled to be fucked up about what happened in that building.
We all survived, though, and that’s what matters. ”
“I don’t know how to stop replaying it all in my head.” Wes rubs an exhausted hand over his face. Then he looks up, giving me a hard stare. “And I don’t know what to do about how glad I am that you were both there.”
Wes’s bold statement shoots a tremor through me, almost like the first time Troy and I kissed. The sound of Troy’s sharp inhale slaps me across the face.
The three of us look back and forth at each other as the bomb in the room slowly detonates. As Wes presses his fingers to his mouth.
Troy breaks the silence. “I still don’t get what happened. What were those guys doing lurking in the damn employee lot in the middle of the day?”
Mood broken, Wes tips his head back, eyes drifting shut.
Remembering. “That’s one of the things I keep thinking about.
Nadia said she was taken the same way. Went out to her car on her break, and someone grabbed her.
I can’t help but wonder if all the employees missing recently had the same thing happen. ”
“Pretty bold, snatching people in the middle of the day,” I point out.
“Unlike the guest lots, that one is really only active at shift change,” Wes says.
“There are no cameras back there. So, maybe risky, but obviously it worked. Jesus, if we hadn’t been taken, how long would they have kept it going?
Nobody has been especially concerned about the situation.
Even I wasn’t sure it was a real problem. ”
“So, if we hadn’t gotten snatched, you’d probably still have housekeepers and bellboys dropping like flies. There’s a silver lining you gotta really want to see.” Troy nudges Wes’s leg with his foot. “You really are looking wrecked, Kitten. How about some coffee?”
Troy being Troy, he doesn’t wait for an answer, just pats me on the arm to let me know he’ll be right back and disappears.
Wes has barely gotten out a tired sounding “Oh. Thanks, I—” when he realizes Troy is gone.
“It’s easier to let him do his thing,” I say. “He kind of needs to take care of people.”
People he considers family, but I don’t say that part out loud. It’s something I’m not a hundred percent ready to acknowledge myself.
While I can’t deny feeling a connection with Wes, especially after what we all went through, Wes isn’t exactly all in. He’s here right now because he’s floundering. What happens when he’s not anymore?
We can’t count on him. Not yet. I feel for what he’s dealing with, but I’m hesitant about getting attached. But here’s Troy bringing him smoothies and coffee like Wes is one of his responsibilities.
Over in his chair, Wes looks like he’s staring into the great beyond.
“Wes. Get over here.”
He rises and approaches slowly, in a shuffling, almost zombie-like fashion.
“Lean over,” I tell him.
Ignoring the discomfort in my arm, I reach up and unbutton the top half of his shirt to redo them properly. I don’t bother getting adorable with him this time by flirting or touching, though it’s impossible not brush his chest a little.
“You know, it’s easy to miss it, but you’re pretty ripped under these business-casual clothes you always wear. I noticed it before.”
Before. When we were kidnapped. When he was naked. When I fucked his face while Troy destroyed his ass.
What are you even saying right now? Shut up.
He huffs an almost-laugh. “I had cancer back in my early thirties. Since then I’ve tried to look after my health.”
“Oh yeah? That must have sucked.”
It’s more of a real laugh this time. “I wouldn’t call it fun.” He gives me a curious look. “Most people look sympathetic and change the subject.”
I shrug. “I’m not most people. Besides, I know what it’s like to have to stay vigilant about your health.”
“I can imagine.”
Can’t say a whole lot for the way my father raised me, but one thing I learned was how not to look away when things are uncomfortable. In his house, it wasn’t a choice. There’s a naked vulnerability on Wes’s face that he probably doesn’t show many people.
Troy’s right. He’s fucked up like we are.
“It did suck.” Wes shrugs like he’s not even sure what he means by that. He scoots his chair over, closer to the bed. “It also didn’t. It was hell, and at the same time it also made me change things I think I needed to change. Slowly, but I did.”
“Like your divorce?”
“That’s something I really should have done sooner.
We got married because I got her pregnant.
She miscarried. We kept trying. After I got sick, it was no longer an option.
In trying to soothe her heartbreak, I ignored the fact that I didn’t actually want kids, and we’d both have been happier if we hadn’t let the tide drag us along. So. Yeah. For the best.”
He’s got his hand resting on the bed rail. Since I’m not sure what to say right now, I put my hand over his and leave it there, surprised when he laces his fingers with mine.
When the door opens again, I’m expecting Troy back with coffee. Instead, a group of our fellow escorts pile into the room.
Simon, a former escort, walks in with his boyfriend, who seems nice but looks scary as fuck because he’s got a wicked scar on his face. Behind them are Christian, who took a break from escorting but recently came back, Dean and Michael, and then—“Oh shit.” —PJ.
Before I can think of how to handle this, PJ steps up to Wes. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Wes’s face freezes in surprise before he can rearrange it into something more neutral.
The last thing we need is a blowup here in my room. “PJ, leave him the fuck alone. He came to visit me.”
Wes glances at me, looking grateful. Belatedly, we both realize we’re still holding hands when PJ glances downward and does a double take. With an apologetic expression, Wes pulls his hand into his lap.
Then he looks back at PJ with an almost hopeful expression. “Is my brother here?”
PJ shakes his head. “He’s upset about you blowing him off earlier, and obviously we weren’t thinking you’d be here. He was planning to swing by the hotel later to check on you.” He looks Wes up and down. “Guess you’re fine.”
“For fuck’s sake, PJ, put your dick away.
” Troy shoves his way back into the room, holding two to-go cups.
“We all fucking got kidnapped, remember? Wes was nice enough to make sure Adam was doing okay. You’re acting like he wasn’t in the mood to talk for no good reason.
Stop making this all about your baby bitch boyfriend. ”
“Hey. Stop.” Wes, suddenly alert, issues a sharp whistle. “Both of you.” He looks at Troy. He’s pissed, but there’s a heavy dose of guilt on his face. They might be on the outs, but of course he’s going to defend his brother.
There’s a second where guilt splashes across PJ’s face, but then he puts it away. Arms crossed over his chest, he stations himself against the far wall and glares at Wes silently. Which, I guess, is an improvement?
Still. This is my room, and Wes is ours. Our guest, I mean. Can’t let PJ’s attitude stand. My father would’ve shot him in the kneecap by now.
“He’s right, PJ. It’s been a shit time for everyone. You can stop being an ass to Wes, or you can leave.”
PJ’s eyebrows rise slowly as he seems to put the pieces together. He turns his head to take in Troy standing next to Wes, handing him a coffee cup. Troy’s leaning into Wes’s space. All other eyes in the room follow suit. The only people who don’t seem to realize how this looks are Wes and Troy.
After another stretch of staring, PJ shrugs at Wes and mutters a halfhearted apology.
“It’s okay, I get it. I should go anyway.” Wes stands and toward the door.
“Wes.” Troy grabs for his arm, but misses.
“You don’t have to leave,” I tell Wes.
“No, I really should.” He holds up the cup. “Thank you for the coffee, Troy. PJ, good to see you again.”
The door closes behind him, and everything is silent. For several long, tense seconds it’s nothing but open mouths and bugged-out eyes.
PJ’s mouth works open and closed a few times before a halting “What the…?” comes out.
Someone chuckles. Michael, I think?
Then the room erupts in a flurry of questions.