Chapter 30 #2
I can lie to Maxwell, no problem, but not to myself. “Not the whole time. I might have used it to get him into therapy,” I admit. I’m in this now, I might as well see where he’s going with it.
“I knew it! Don’t worry, I get it. I get you. We do what’s best for our children, no matter what.”
I’d love to argue with him, but that’s what I told myself, too. I don’t have a single regret either. Dash is a lot better now, and that’s all that really matters.
“Don’t worry, Nolan. I admire you for it. It’s that kind of tenacity that keeps our children safe. But unlike my son, your son accepted you. I had to see you two in action.”
Instinctively, my hand rubs over my chest where the lion tattoo is. I didn’t make that decision lightly. I was so fucking scared of losing him. I didn’t want to control his life, I just wanted to keep him safe.
“Dash needs a little extra care,” I breathe out.
Why does it feel like I’m running? Fucking Christ. That’s what the thought of harm coming to Dash does.
Even when it’s long in the past. “That’s why Dash hasn’t pushed me away.
He relies on the kind of care I give him.
He’s more than willing to tell me to shove it when I’m being too much. ”
The time he did recently is all too fresh, and I kinda wish I could burn the image of those scratches up his arms away if I’m not allowed to do anything about it.
“Exactly. Dash thrives with that kind of care; Rhett feels suffocated by it. But guess who came crawling to my office with permit papers for his house remodel? He needed them pushed through. You told me to lay off, I did, and look? He came when he needed me.”
“That’s hardly rocket science. That’s ‘advice’ you can get from a book. You didn’t need to waste your time with me.”
His gaze locks on mine, and I see it there, the darkness. It’s no longer fighting to get out. It’s seeped into the crevices, becoming him. “But it was so much more fun to watch you.”
Ice-cold realization hits me like a sledgehammer. “All of this was you. What was I? A bug pinned to a board while you took notes?”
“Don’t you love knowing how strong you are? How much you love your man? No matter what I sent your way, you didn’t waver.”
Oh, I wavered, alright. But I didn’t follow through.
“I dangled your darkest fantasy in front of you, and you didn’t bite. Sure, you salivated, maybe even lusted for it, but you walked away. Even your old friend wasn’t enough to seduce you, Trav,” he says in a jovial voice, as if I kicked a bad habit.
So that visit from Blaze was supposed to push me over the edge. “Did you have Robin released?”
“No. He was getting out either way. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I may have massaged a few bureaucratic muscles at the end, so I didn’t have to wait any longer.” He shrugs. “I got impatient.”
I force my hands to remain on the bar top while they sear with the burning itch to kill him.
My teeth grind, and I should tell him to get the fuck out, but I don’t.
I’ll admit it, for a hot minute, he had me under his interrogation lights, but he shouldn’t hold his breath waiting for me to thank him for showing me a window into my own character.
All this time, I thought he was the mirror. I thought he was a reflection of all the things I used to be.
But I’m the mirror.
For him.
Maxwell didn’t intend to remind me of my own darkness; he came to me to remind himself of his.
“You’re a coward, Maxwell.”
His eyes narrow into a curious squint, not even offended. “How so?”
Maybe the most annoying part of all of this is that there is a genuine spark of innocence, and that I’m seeing it—that he’s allowing me to see it—means he trusts me more than he thinks.
“You played games with me to see what kind of man I am, thinking it would teach you about yourself. The only way to do that is to throw yourself into the fire.”
Maxwell gives his hands another wipe, tossing the napkin onto the bones. “You don’t think it’s better to learn from other people’s mistakes?”
“I think there’s a fine line between protection and control, and that men like us always think we can tell the difference. We shouldn’t make those decisions alone, and if you took responsibility for the things you do, you’d try it for yourself rather than play puppeteer.”
He stumbles out of his chair—has he been drinking?
At this time of the morning? At least he has a driver.
“Well played, bestie. I have to go. Check your phone. I found a hilarious meme I think Dash will like.” He taps his fingers on the bar top, almost as if he’s mulling over whether he should share whatever dark thought is on the tip of his brain.
“At first, genuine curiosity led my intrigue without bias—I didn’t favor an outcome, I just wanted to see which you would do. ”
Maxwell lets those words find their place before continuing.
“Then I wanted you to do it. I wanted to witness your fall arc.” He shakes his head.
“But it changed again. Something … shifted, and I couldn’t.
No matter what you decided, I wasn’t going to let you do it.
I’d still get my answer, but I was always going to deal with the matter.
You only think you’re tarnished, but I actually am. I’m glad you exist, Travis Nolan.”
Maxwell leaves on that cryptic little note, and I’m left staring at the devastation on his plate—blood, sauce, I don’t fucking know. I have my rough-edged, pretty boy to give me a fucking shake when I can’t. Would Eddie do the same for Maxwell, or chase after the darkness with him?
Dirk finally—fucking finally—strolls into the kitchen where I’ve decided to help with prep.
His brown hair shines from beneath his ball cap, and he’s wearing a crisp white t-shirt with blue jeans.
I barge out from behind the bar, every inch of me screaming danger, pinning him with my predator’s stare, only to gently tuck an unruly curl of hair behind Dirk’s ear.
All my earlier turmoil dissipates, blows away like a puff of smoke, like it was never there.
“Good morning, baby.” I press a kiss to his lips.
“Morning,” he murmurs and spies my now-empty paper coffee cup from the place down the block.
“You got Morino’s?” He lifts the cup. “Where’s mine, Trav?”
“Uh…” Shit.
He smirks. “Lemme guess, pouting because I wasn’t here? Too single-focused to think about anything else?”
“I was not pouting.”
“He was,” Penny says unhelpfully from the prep room.
“Maybe a little,” I admit. “We need a better system. My bed was missing an occupant last night.”
It’s something I have an increasing amount of beef with. I know we talked about how moving in together was a bad idea, but watching him move out of his old place and into a new place without me is giving me visions of abducting him and moving all his stuff into my place anyway.
His lips crack a brilliant smile. “Don’t worry, I’m staying here tonight.”
“You damn well better be.” Why wait until tonight?
“C’mere.” I abandon my chopping station, something I’d never have done in the past, but I have to have him.
It’s a need. As soon as he’s past the threshold of my apartment, I’m tugging the hem of his shirt up and over.
Nimble fingers undo my belt, and teeth scrape my jaw.
“Get on your knees, baby. You’re gonna show me how much you missed me, and how sorry you are for leaving me all alone last night.”
A husky chuckle leaves his throat as he sinks to the floor, engulfing my cock with his hot mouth.
“C’mon,” I say, grabbing his hand. “I’m taking you somewhere.” I lead Dirk out of the restaurant, walking in the direction of one of my favorite places. I hold his hand, proudly, the whole way, Dirk’s lips actually sporting a half smile in broad daylight.
“What are you up to, Trav? You’ve got a scheming look about you.”
Maybe a bit, but it’s a scheme I think he’ll be down for. It’s a bit of a walk to the other side of town, but when we get there, I stop in front of the place, looking up at the sign, letting him digest what I might be thinking. I hope he likes it because we have an appointment.
“A tattoo parlor, Trav?”
“Not just any tattoo parlor, the one that’s done most of my tattoos.
” I don’t just come here for tattoos either.
I’ve gotten to know the people who work here over the years.
Initially, I stopped by to watch them work, but we became friends.
They showed me a few things. I got a few years of practice, and it became a hobby.
“What are you getting this time?” he says.
“Me? Nuh-uh. You.” Gripping under his jaw with one hand, I pull him to me and run my other thumb over the hipbone I had in mind. On the left, the only one free thanks to his Calder Cup tattoo on the other side. “I want something right here.”
I move my thumb down, tracing the path of where it would start and end.
“I’d have to open my pants for that one, Trav. You sure you’re okay with that?”
“Yep.” At least, it is for what I have planned. “You game?”
“You really wanna test Hunter’s patience, eh?”
Testing his patience would be doing what I really wanna do and taking him down to the courthouse, putting a ring on his finger, but we decided to let Hunter get used to us as boyfriends for a bit.
He’s trying, making an honest effort to accept us, and so our compromise is not getting married—yet—or moving in together.
I’m a grumbly asshole about it, but I’m not mad. If everyone gives a little, we’ll reach common ground, because we want the same thing. But I’m only waiting so long, Hunter’s got a year.
“He still doesn’t know about the other one,” he says when I haven’t responded, a clear indication that with some of Hunter’s rules, I just don’t give a fuck.
“That a no, pretty boy?”
Dirk ducks his head, eyes flicking down, the buttons of my shirt becoming all too fascinating. “I, uh, um…” He clears his throat. “For some reason, I find this unbearably hot—getting tattooed for you. Are people gonna watch?”