Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
DAVE
Dave watched Justin’s truck pull out of the lot, then wrote a quick text to Matt as he walked back to their room. He was off-balance from Justin’s revelation and felt sick deep inside over the whole goddamn mess.
With a sigh, he hit send, and looked up to find Christian standing in the doorway, arms crossed, legs planted, practically vibrating with tension.
Dave’s heart sank. Not now. Just once, he wanted to recover from something difficult without having to make allowances for Christian too. But of course, here they were.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, coming to a halt in front of Christian. Who didn’t move from where he was blocking the open doorway. And that was Christian all over—beautiful and impossible and wired too damn tight.
“Oh, I don’t know, what could possibly be wrong?” Christian drawled at him.
Irritation flaring, Dave pushed past him. He was done—done—with being the one who always had to defuse things first.
Realizing he was still holding his phone, he flung it onto the bed. Petty, maybe, but it relieved some of the tension building in him after the emotions of Justin’s confession and now this from Christian.
“Well?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he meant. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”
Christian’s voice was flat and cold. “You looked real cozy with him out there.”
Dave froze as he replayed the words, thinking he couldn’t have heard properly. “Excuse me?”
“Didn’t think you were the type to hand out hugs and phone numbers to strangers. Must’ve been a hell of a conversation.”
Dave stared. After everything—all the flirting Christian never shut down, all the conversations he never bothered to have, and now he was accusing Dave of crossing a line?
“You really think I’d do that to you?” Dave said, voice low with disbelief. “You think I’d lie to you, cheat on you?”
Christian didn’t answer. But he didn’t back down, either. Just stood there, bristling.
Something in Dave cracked.
“You know what?” he said, low and savage. “Fuck you.”
He turned and walked out. Because if he didn’t, he’d say something worse. Something he couldn’t take back.
Behind him, the door slammed.
Though maybe, he thought numbly, there wasn’t anything worse he could have said.
CHRISTIAN
Christian’s hand throbbed like hell. Burying it in the drywall a time or two would do that, he supposed, as he stood in the middle of the room, trying not to go back for another round.
If he hurt his hand any worse, he wouldn’t be able to fight tonight and he wanted that so badly he could almost taste it.
He needed that control, that knowledge that no one could hurt him ever again.
He wrapped a cold, wet washcloth around his bruised knuckles, the chill biting into skin he hadn’t realized was burning. His reflection in the mirror stopped him cold.
His face was a mess. But neither the split lip nor bruised jaw had hurt earlier when he’d kissed Dave, or when Dave had kissed him back like they were the only two people in the world.
Something in his chest crumpled. He turned away from the mirror before he had to watch his face do the same.
Dave wouldn’t betray him. He knew that. Knew it deep in his bones. But that hug hadn’t looked like nothing. The way the guy clung to Dave like he was the only solid ground left, and Dave had held him just as tightly, as if he needed him.
They were mates, but that didn’t mean shit. Like being someone’s son didn’t. His dad had still broken his arm. His mom had still looked away. Slapping a label on a relationship didn’t protect anyone.
Christian closed his eyes and pressed the cloth harder against his hand.
He’d told himself it would happen eventually.
Had always known that someday, Dave would meet someone easier.
Someone who didn’t lash out when he couldn’t find the words or lock down when it mattered most. Someone who didn’t carry so much wreckage with him it was almost a junkyard.
And when that day came, what was Christian supposed to do?
He’d loved Dave so hard, so fiercely, but there’d always been that part of him bracing for the moment the ground gave out, for Dave to walk away like everyone else had. Or, at least, there had been. These last few years, he’d almost forgotten that nothing lasted. He’d thought it was forever.
He stalked out into the bedroom. Dave would come back. He had to.
DAVE
Dave only stopped walking when he ran out of sidewalk.
He came to a halt and realized he was shaking.
Stumbling back a step, he braced himself against the nearest building, gratefully soaking up the beginnings of warmth from the sunshine and telling himself the trembling would stop once he warmed up.
But it didn’t, and he knew why. He’d never lost control like that before, not at someone else. And this wasn’t just anyone else—it was Christian.
Loving Christian was like nothing else he’d known.
It was excitement and exhilaration, and a feeling deep inside of rightness that persisted even when loving him was hard work.
But right now, all he felt was bruised and battered.
And he was tired of always having to hold it all together. So very tired.
For an instant he let himself think what it would be like if he were to go to the coast with Justin. It would be calm and easy, with green eyes as clear and giving as the summer ocean.
But however easy it would be with Justin, it could never come close to what he had with Christian and the love he had for that stubborn, hot-tempered bastard.
The love he’d felt for him almost from the first time he’d met him, even though he was the sort of guy Dave would normally run from—unpredictable and aggressive.
He’d reminded Dave of nothing so much as that fire-eating horse he’d been trying to calm, and as the days went past, he’d seen the resemblance more and more.
They were both striking out because they wouldn’t let themselves be made vulnerable ever again.
They’d learned the cost of letting anyone close.
As the months had passed, Dave had learned there was one big difference—Diablo had learned to trust, but Christian’s hurts went too deep, had been with him too long for him ever to forget.
One night, after they’d gotten completely wasted on Jason’s homemade plum wine, he’d found out why.
Christian’s first memory was of vainly trying to hide from his drunken father, and the beating that followed.
And the beatings that kept following, until he was ten years old, and a new doctor at the hospital had gotten insistent enough that child services finally acted.
That had resulted in Christian losing the only home he’d ever had and getting shuffled around the system, being moved from place to place as his reputation for starting fights preceded him.
The next morning, a badly hungover Christian didn’t seem to remember telling him any of that.
Thankfully, Matt had forbidden Jason from ever making wine again because while Christian had been spilling his guts to Dave in the darkness outside, Bryce had ended up doing the naked Macarena on the kitchen table.
Dave had never forgotten what Christian had told him, or the helpless anger in his voice as he’d talked about being too small and weak to protect himself.
Dave had kept the memory locked away deep inside, so that when loving Christian got hard, he could remind himself why Christian was the way he was.
Because sometimes when Christian pushed the world away, he pushed Dave away too, and it hurt.
When he’d thought over the years of all that could go wrong between them, it was always his fault—he’d ask for too much, need too much, want something Christian wasn’t ready for. He’d spent the first year quietly braced for the moment Christian would leave.
But he’d never, not once, imagined Christian would think he’d be the one to leave. That he’d cheat. Throw away what they had like it meant nothing.
He’d thought Christian knew him. After all this time, after everything, Christian could still look at him and see someone else, someone less. As if Christian didn’t see him at all.
Maybe he should’ve felt something coming, because they’d both been on edge since they got here. But this? This wasn’t just a crack in the foundation. This felt like the whole damn relationship falling apart.
He finally straightened up. He couldn’t stay out here forever. Couldn’t stand in the sun and pretend this wasn’t happening. He had to go back. Christian would probably rage for a bit and then realize how wrong he’d been, and everything would be back to normal.
For some reason, he felt resigned to that fact rather than reassured by it. The closer he got to the motel, the more slowly he walked.