13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
“ O kay.” North felt like a metal rope was wrapped around his neck, getting tighter and tighter as he bent down, lowering the box until Tate could finally release it. “I won’t go near you, Tate. I don’t know what I did, but I’ll stay away.” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. None of this is your fault.” Tate straightened, rubbing his hands on his thighs, wincing as he reached the spot on his leg where the box had first hit him. “We…we won’t be able to avoid each other all the time on the bus.”
Nodding slowly, North folded his arms tightly over his chest, as if that could keep the ache within from tearing him open. Being this close to Tate without being able to hold him, to dry his tears and demand to know what had gone wrong was breaking him apart, piece by piece.
But the only reason they were speaking at all was because XVI Hours would be on Winter’s Wrath’s bus.
He didn’t have to be. “I could swap with one of the roadies. Sleep in the van.”
“No. That would be weird.” Tate shoved back his hood and ran his hand through his hair, giving it a little tug. “We can be friends, right? Act like…like there was never anything else?”
Fuck no . North wanted to hit something. To grab Tate and shake him. To… He didn’t even know what. Friendship was a good compromise, but that wasn’t really what Tate was offering. Not a real friendship. If they had to erase what they’d once had, they might as well be strangers.
But that was the best North was going to get. And it was better than Tate hating him, for whatever reason.
“Sure. We can be friends.”
“And you’ll stop trying to mess with me?” Tate hugged himself, lifting his head finally to glare at North. “Fooling around with my drum tech, then going after Dariel? What’s your fucking problem?”
Blinking at Tate, North tried to wrap his mind around the anger in Tate’s tone. “My problem? Dude, you broke up with me. Now you want a say in who I fuck?”
Tate stared at him. His eyes were glistening. He was fighting not to blink. If he did, the tears would fall and seeing them broke North’s fucking heart. But then Tate’s eyes hardened. “Why would I care?”
“I don’t know.” North’s voice was rough. He could hardly breathe. “You tell me.”
“Friends don’t do that kind of shit. Find a groupie or something. Someone I don’t know. Someone I won’t have to hear talking about…”
North stepped forward, lowering his voice. They had the last box. No one would come here until the cops were done talking to Oakley and Vanessa. They’d probably wanna come see what was up, but North had some time. Time he desperately needed.
“Talking about what, Tate? About me doing the things to them that I did to you? About how I made them feel?” North stopped when Tate backed into the bus, careful not to get in his personal space. “You don’t need to worry, because that’ll never happen. They’d get the same shallow fuck I’ve always given everyone. The fuck a whore gives, because that’s all I’ve ever been. Except with you.”
“North—”
“No, you fucking listen to me. I wasn’t going after anyone to hurt you. I didn’t know I could.” North brought his hand up to rub over his eyes. “You made it clear I was worth nothing to you. I guess…I guess I was hoping to feel like I was worth something again. To someone. Even if it was just a good time.”
Tate’s lips parted. “Damn it, North, you’re better than that.”
Lips curving slightly, North shrugged. “You made me believe I was. For a bit. So thank you.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you. Please believe that.” Tate stepped away from the bus. Lifted his hand… Then let it fall. “I wanted to make a clean cut. I thought it would be easier this way.”
“Yeah, well, too late.” North chewed at his bottom lip. He should end this conversation. They were in a pretty good place. Fine, he didn’t know why Tate had wanted to cut him out of his life. He might never know. But did it matter?
Still, he had one last thing to get off his chest. The final fucking blow.
Maybe, after he said it, they could both move on.
“I loved you, Tate. Part of me still does, even though I know it’s stupid and I gotta kill that shit.” He let out a hollow laugh. “If you’d told me you needed me to let you go, I would have.”
“And if I ask you now?”
“You did. Several times.” North tried to lighten his tone, but it was still hoarse. A little broken. “And I will.”
“Good.” Tate blinked and tears spilled down his cheeks, coming slower from under his eye patch, but flowing freely. “That’s what I need.”
“You look like you need a hug.”
“I do, but I can’t ask for one from you. Not after all this.”
“Sure you can.” North held his arms open, even though the movement was like letting the last of what he’d held together shatter. The broken shards within were sharp enough to draw blood, but none of that hurt as much as seeing Tate in pain and being completely helpless to ease it. “Come here.”
With a broken sob, Tate fell against him, burying his face in North’s chest, his whole body shaking. He wrapped his arms around North’s waist, gasping for air, not saying a word for what seemed like forever.
North pressed his face into Tate’s messed up hair, breathing in the scent of him, absorbing the warmth, some of his own pain fading from the contact alone. He heard someone call and held up his hand. Just one more minute. One more and he could do this. He had to do this. He refused to make whatever Tate was going through harder.
“We don’t have much time left.” Tate lifted his head from North’s chest as they rested on the sofa in the basement of the Villa Winter’s Wrath had rented in Italy. His light brown hair disheveled, he looked like a sweet devil, full of mischief and lust and temptation. “I was gonna seduce you, but I like you holding me like this way too much.”
“I was gonna let you, but the way I see it, we’ve got tomorrow. And the day after that. And plenty more days.” North pulled Tate back down and held him close. “This is the first time you don’t seem scared that we’ll get caught together.”
“Because I’m not. Connor chilled out after I talked to him.” Tate shrugged and let out a happy sigh. “Gonna tell the other guys you’re mine soon. I think they’ll be cool with it. You’re a better man than they know.”
North’s heart stuttered. “I’m really not. There’s a lot of shit about my past I haven’t told you.”
“Yeah? So what? Same.” Tate tipped his head back and grinned. “Won’t change a damn thing. Face it, North. You’re one of the good guys.”
Tate had liked saying things like that to him. North inhaled the warm scent of the man in his arms, feeling like a compress that would soon be ripped away had been pressed to all his wounds. Tate was all the warmth and sweetness he’d known better than to hope for. He smelled like some of the cookies North had bought for him, which made North smile.
Whatever the drummer was going through, he’d taken something from North—without knowing it, but so what?—and enjoyed it.
And now he was accepting something else.
“North, the bands are all on the other bus.” Vanessa’s soft voice broke through the mellow haze he’d fallen into. He slowly released Tate, wishing he could hold on a little longer, but grateful for what he’d gotten. It was something. It was better than being nothing to the man. He glanced over at Vanessa, who looked sad, but continued. “They’re splitting up the bunks, but they need you both to divide what’s left. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.” North glanced over at Tate, who seemed to have trouble schooling his expression and was tugging his hood over his head. He put his hand on Tate’s shoulder. “Seriously… It’s gonna be all right.”
Walking with him in silence, Tate stiffened a little until North moved his hand, then looked around as though terrified they were being watched. He paused at the bottom of the bus steps, waiting until Vanessa headed inside before speaking again.
“North, it’s not all right. Please don’t ask me why. But it’s not.”
“I know.” North shoved his hands in his pockets so he wasn’t tempted to pull Tate to him again. He had a feeling he could have, but he didn’t want to test that theory. Whatever Tate was hiding, he’d have to be patient to find out. And he would be.
If all he could be was a friend, he’d be a damn good one.
“Tate, on the road, this is who we are. The music. The getting through every day until the next show. Making sure we’re ready.” North’s lips curved slightly. “I heard you on the drums. You’re ready. That’s all that matters.”
“What about us?”
“We’re friends. I’m not a great friend, but I try.” North winked at Tate to lighten to mood. “Maybe you can teach me to be better.”
Tate opened his mouth, shook his head, then just smiled.
And it was the most beautiful sight in the world.