Chapter Fourteen Too Hot to Handle
Chapter fourteen
Too Hot to Handle
Trent must have drifted off again, because when he surfaced, the room felt…wrong.
Empty.
Reece was gone.
Not bathroom gone. Not getting a glass of water gone. Properly, irreversibly gone . His clothes were nowhere in sight, every trace of him carefully gathered up and taken along, as if he’d never been there at all.
Trent pushed up on his elbows, heart giving a hollow thud as he scanned the empty space. And God, he couldn’t even pretend the ache in his chest wasn’t real this time.
The sex had been…Christ, it had been phenomenal .
There was no point lying to himself about that.
But it hadn’t just been the sex. It wasn’t only the relentless, overwhelming physicality of it.
Though Reece had been all that and more.
He was a force of nature, rough and tender in equal measure.
Every word he’d spoken had rumbled low and deep, vibrating through Trent’s chest like some living, breathing lullaby of want.
Every touch, whether bruising or barely there, had left Trent trembling, undone.
And the way Reece held him afterward…
Even after it was over, he hadn’t rolled away.
He’d stayed. He’d soothed him. Big hands gliding over hot skin, lips breathing soft apologies along every mark he’d left.
Trent couldn’t even remember the words exactly.
But he didn’t need the words. What he needed was the warmth of them, the way they filled the quiet, crowding out the dark places in his head.
For a little while, wrapped up in that solid weight, in those arms that felt like the safest damn place he’d ever known, Trent had let himself believe maybe Reece could be everything he craved.
But now… he was gone.
And really, wasn’t that exactly how this should end?
As if it never happened. As if he never mattered.
Because that’s all Trent had ever taught Reece to believe.
He flicked his gaze to the bedside table. The coffee was gone, replaced by a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol capsules laid out neatly beside it. And tucked beneath the glass, a torn scrap of notepaper.
Had to head off. Nights again. See you out there.
Trent closed his eyes and took a sip of the water, swallowing past the bitter taste of disappointment sitting heavier than any hangover ever could.
If that wasn’t a perfectly delivered gut punch, he didn’t know what was.
Reece probably didn’t even realise he was off rota this week. Not that he’d cared enough to ask. But it wasn’t the lack of knowing that cut deep. It was the message buried in that silence. Clear. Unmistakable.
This morning hadn’t meant the same to him.
Of course it hadn’t.
Trent had let himself feel something. He’d finally kissed him. And that was it. Reece had what he wanted. The chase was over. Box ticked.
Game over.
Fuck .
Why had he let it happen? Why had he been so fucking stupid?
It wasn’t because of the kiss. He knew that.
Reece hadn’t undone him with that kiss alone.
Trent had already been falling, long before their mouths crashed together, hot and hungry, tender and terrifying.
But it felt as if he’d given Reece the last piece of himself he’d been holding back. And now Reece had everything…
He didn’t have to fight for it anymore.
Anger burned hot in his veins as he yanked open the drawer, reaching for a Tramadol. Anything to numb the sharp edges cutting through his chest.
But the drawer was empty.
They were gone . Every last packet.
He dumped the water straight over the note, watching the ink bleed out as if it couldn’t wait to disappear. Then he tore the sheets clinging stubbornly to Reece’s scent from the bed and got out.
Joggers. Hoodie. Whatever was closest. He dragged them on with shaking hands and yanked his bedroom door open, storming towards the kitchen galley. He ripped open the first aid drawer, checking on autopilot even though he already knew.
Gone.
“Looking for something? ”
Dev’s voice drifted in from behind, casual as ever, as he wandered out from the living room, music channel playing low on the TV.
Trent slammed the drawer shut. “Paracetamol.”
“Didn’t you get some already?”
“Yeah. Need more.”
Dev arched a perfectly unimpressed eyebrow, eyes tracking every twitch of Trent’s restless hands as he folded his arms tight and gnawed at the fraying edge of his sleeve.
“Was about to come wake you. Thought you were on nights.” Dev flicked the kettle on.
“I’m signed off.” Trent stared at the counter. “For the week.”
Dev stilled for a second, then shot him a knowing glance over his shoulder. “’Cause of the accident?”
The sting behind his eyes built fast, blurring the edges of the room. “Yeah. Who told you?”
“Reece Morgan.”
The name hit like a hammer to the ribs, and he swallowed the lump rising hard and fast in his throat. “He…gave me a lift home. That’s all.”
Dev barked out a loud, incredulous laugh, tossing his head back dramatically. “ Babes , the walls aren’t that bloody thick. He wrecked you. I’m surprised you even remember your name.” He grinned wickedly and added, with far too much amusement, “ Sweetheart .”
Trent’s stomach turned, cheeks burning hot with a cocktail of shame and he turned away, palms flat against the cold counter, trying to hold himself together before the cracks showed.
Dev’s laughter faded, replaced by a concern beneath all his usual sass.
“Hey…” Dev padded closer. “Look, I’m not judging.
God knows I’d climb that man like a tree if he so much as looked my way.
” His eyes were serious now despite the teasing edge.
“But you’ve gotta be careful, Trent. You’re…
you’re not built for casual. Not really.
And that one?” He nodded towards the door, where Reece had long since vanished. “He’s nothing but casual.”
Trent swallowed hard. “I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Of course I fucking do!”
Dev blinked at the sharpness, but didn’t bite back. He then moved to the kettle, set about making two coffees, of which he handed one to Trent. “You wanna talk about yesterday?”
Trent took a long swallow, the bitter heat scalding down his throat but doing nothing to settle the chaos under his skin.
Not the echoes of yesterday’s accident. Not the memories clawing at his chest. And definitely not the man who’d walked out of his life as if he hadn’t rearranged every broken piece of it before leaving.
He stared into the mug, the coffee’s dark swirl somehow easier to face than the pity. Or worse, the truth lurking in Dev’s eyes.
“I thought I could handle it.”
Dev cocked his head. “Are we talking Reece… or the accident?”
Trent let out a bitter, breathless snort, tasting more of defeat than amusement. The answer was both, and wasn’t that the whole fucking problem? But he stuck to the one that didn’t feel as if it might rip him wide open.
“The accident.” His hands trembled as he set the mug down.
“I’ve done all the therapy, Dev. Talked about it until I can’t even stand the sound of my own voice.
Cleared by every psychologist they threw at me.
Occupational health, trauma counsellors, fucking everyone.
I should be able to handle it. This job…
it’s supposed to be what makes it all me an something, right?
Then the first serious crash I go to, I …
” He squeezed his eyes shut, head dropping between his shoulders.
“I didn’t freeze. I didn’t choke. I went too fucking far.
I couldn’t stop. Reece had to pull me off, Dev.
And now all he’s gonna remember is how I fell apart.
How I’m nothing but a fucking headcase who shouldn’t be out there. ”
Dev’s face softened, his coffee forgotten as he crossed the cramped space and wrapped Trent up in his arms.
“Oh, babes…” Dev smoothed his hand over Trent’s back as Trent sagged into him.
“You told me to show him who I am.” Trent dropped his head to Dev’s shoulder. “Well… now he knows.”
Dev pulled back to search his face, his voice low but careful, as if walking a tightrope between honesty and kindness.
“And yet… he stayed the night. That’s something, yeah?”
Trent let out a jagged, humourless laugh. “Cause I asked him to. No, begged him to.”
“And this morning?”
“This morning, fuck, Dev, it was the best lay of my life. He fucking owned me. Tore me wide open. And for a while… I don’t know. It felt like more . Like it meant something. And that’s not how a casual fuck is supposed to feel, is it?”
“That’s because it’s not.” Dev’s eyes darkened with something between caution and sadness, resting his hands on Trent’s shoulders to look him in the eye. “For you.”
“It felt like he cared.”
“I’m not saying he doesn’t care. I think he does.
In his own messy, fucked-up way. But caring and being able to give you what you need?
That’s a whole different story. And honestly, babes…
” Dev’s mouth twisted into a gr imace. “When I handed him that coffee this morning, I didn’t think it’d end with your arse in the air before breakfast.”
Trent could have pointed out that he had initiated it. That he’d begged, folded, fallen at Reece’s feet like some pathetic cliché. But all he could feel now was a sick wave of horror turning his stomach.
Dev squeezed his shoulder.
“I don’t want to see you pour everything you’ve got into someone who’s got nothing left to give back.
And I know you don’t want to hear it, but there are others, Trent.
He’s not waiting for you like you’re waiting for him.
If I thought you could handle that, you know I’d be here high fiving you about this morning like the shameless little slag I am…
” Dev tried for a teasing smile, but it didn’t last. “But babes… you want to be the only one he wraps those arms around. And that’s not the way it is with him. ”