Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“I was asleep. Until your rude ass woke me up.”
Slade pulled back as though he’d been slapped. “Was your door locked?”
“You know it wasn’t,” he countered.
Slade frowned. “Bullshit. Why else would he come to my room?”
Atticus spun away from him, heading back to his bedroom. He wasn’t in the mood for their bullshit right now. He had an hour left to sleep, and he intended to do it. What those two did was their business. Not his.
“Where are you goin’?”
“Where does it look like I’m goin’?” he muttered before closing the door.
This time, he locked it.
Slade tried the knob on Atticus’s door, intending to follow him into the room.
Locked.
“Sonuvabitch.”
Fine. Two could play that game.
He spun on his heel and headed back for his bedroom. When he saw that Carson was still in his bed, he did his best not to look at the man. Definitely not at his bare chest or those rippling abs now on display since he’d turned on the bedside lamp.
“I’m goin’ to work,” he told Carson, tearing his gaze away.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” he lied. Since he was currently working with Luca, there really wasn’t anything for him to do at HQ, but Carson didn’t need to know that.
“Slade. Come here.”
He swallowed hard, hating the way his chest felt tight with hope.
It always did that whenever Carson gave him any attention whatsoever.
That was part of the reason he wasn’t willing to give in to this.
Yeah, he’d pretended that night when Atticus made Carson come over.
Pretended to forgive the past, pretended it didn’t matter.
That was the night hope started to bloom again.
The night Carson had accomplished the goal of confusing Slade with his sweet words and well-placed apologies.
But those only lasted for a minute before they got back to basics. Sex. The real reason they’d been so good together.
Sex was the easy part. He had never denied his attraction to Carson. Not ever. And having Atticus there, watching, had only made it hotter. Not to mention, Slade had gotten really good at having an audience. After all, that was what Carson’s role in their previous relationship had been.
Oh, wait. It hadn’t been a relationship because Carson wasn’t interested in something real, something permanent. At least not with him.
And neither was Atticus, as he had so kindly informed him after their last encounter.
I think we should do more of this.
Yeah?
Definitely. Let’s just keep it casual from here on out. Just fucking. You good with that?
Fearing he would sound like a love-struck moron if he insisted on more, Slade had said, I guess I’ll have to be.
And now everything was falling apart.
“Come here,” Carson repeated.
Slade looked at him. “Why’re you here?”
Carson’s jaw tensed as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I told you. I missed you.”
“You didn’t come over to see Atticus?”
Carson shook his head.
“Why not?”
A huff of amusement came from Carson. “Can’t it be enough that I wanted to see you?”
No, it couldn’t because Slade didn’t believe him. He wasn’t sure he ever would.
“Why?”
“Goddammit, Slade. Come here.”
Swallowing hard, Slade caved to the demand. He walked around to his side and dropped down on the bed, kicking the blankets away.
He knew he was being petty and stupid about this, but he’d already made an ass of himself by accusing Carson of really wanting Atticus instead of him.
The best he could do now was apologize, but he’d been doing too much of that lately.
To the point he wasn’t sure he even meant it.
If he did, why the fuck would he continue the pattern?
“I know you still don’t trust me,” Carson said, his voice low as he rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand. “But that’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“It is.” Carson placed his hand on Slade’s chest. “We had somethin’, Slade, and I’m the one who fucked it up. Now we have the chance to have somethin’ again, and you’re scared.”
“I’m not—” He cut himself off. He saw no reason to lie.
He was scared. Petrified, really. He knew it would take very little for him to get in deep with Carson again.
He’d loved the man in a way he’d never loved anyone else.
And unlike his feelings for Atticus, which were new and potentially based on lust rather than something more permanent, what he’d felt for Carson had been real.
His thoughts drifted to yesterday when he’d spent time with Luca and Honor, but then he shook them off as fast as he could, not wanting to dwell on it. Certainly not now.
Maybe he’d only imagined what he felt for Carson. It was possible. Right?
“That’s why I’m here.” Carson dragged his finger over Slade’s chest. “Not to seduce you. I just wanted to spend a few minutes with you before the day got started.”
Slade turned his head, met Carson’s stare. “No bullshit?”
Carson shook his head. “None. I told you before, I’m not takin’ this for granted again.”
He had said that. And Slade wanted to believe him.
The only problem was, he didn’t. Not even a little.
Carson’s voice lowered. “It’s gonna take time for me to prove it. I get that. But if this is what you want, I need you to stop fightin’ me on it.”
What if he didn’t want it anymore? What then?
Slade swallowed past the knot that formed in his throat. “Or what? I mean, would you prefer to just be with Atticus?”
Something flashed in Carson’s eyes. Something that looked a lot like pain.
“I’m sorry.”
Carson exhaled heavily. “I don’t think you are. I think you can’t help but speak the truth.”
Slade breathed in deep, let it out slowly. He was primed to argue, but it was difficult to argue with the truth.
“Maybe this isn’t the right thing for us,” Carson whispered.
And therein lies the problem.
Two days ago, Slade would’ve disagreed, thrown himself at Carson’s mercy, and pleaded with him to give him a chance. But over the course of the past two days, something had changed. Something significant. Slade wasn’t even sure he could admit to what it was. Not even to himself. Not yet.
Before Carson could get up, Slade grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Wait.”
Carson relaxed, and Slade rolled to his side, moving closer.
“Tell me the truth.”
“Anything.”
Slade scanned his face, but he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. “Do you really see this goin’ anywhere?”
Carson’s expression didn’t change; his eyes remained fixed on him.
Because of that, Slade saw the truth in them.
The same truth he’d seen so long ago, back when they’d been together.
Carson had already disconnected. He was there, not because he wanted to salvage what they had, but because he wanted to know whether there was anything left.
Odd how Slade felt the same way.
“I don’t think this is gonna work, Carson.”
Carson tucked his hands under his head and stared up at the ceiling. “I think you’re right.”
“I thought I could—” He stopped talking when he realized Carson had agreed with him. “What?”
“You’re right.”
Slade frowned. “What about Atticus?”
Carson turned his head to look at him. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him.”
“I think he’s fuckin’ Archer.”
Slade felt the weight of Carson’s stare when he looked at him. “He’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Atticus is far too honest to cheat.”
“Pfft. Honest? Why the hell would you think that?”
“Come on, Slade. Atticus is honest to a fault. I’m not sure the guy knows how to lie.”
Slade seriously doubted that. Everyone lied. At least everyone he’d ever met did. And he was always the one being lied to, though he couldn’t understand why.
“Well, he spends an awful lot of time with him,” Slade groused.
“Aren’t they partners?”
“Supposedly.” Slade knew he sounded petty, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to admit he might’ve been wrong, that he could be the one who had imploded their entire relationship with his insecurity.
“Deep down, you know Atticus isn’t the sort who’d hurt anyone.”
Maybe.
Still, acknowledging it wasn’t going to make him feel better.