Chapter Three #2
Crisp tried to keep his surprise hidden. He must not have done a good job.
Fabrice laughed. “I see. You’re allowed to dig for my darkest secrets, but I can’t inquire about yours.”
Crisp’s shoulders relaxed. There was something about Fabrice’s French accent that made him feel ridiculous and called out.
“There’s no way I can tell that story where I don’t come out looking like an idiot.”
Fabrice leaned his shoulder against Crisp’s.
It felt a lot like cuddling without holding each other.
Maybe they just lent one another strength.
“I’m not in love with Clay. It’s hard to explain.
” He turned up the wine again before continuing.
“We grew up together.” He felt Fabrice shrug.
“All we’ve had is each other. I’m happy for him.
I’m just sad for me. It feels a lot like I have no one anymore. ”
“You have me.”
A soft laugh under Fabrice’s breath rumbled through the dark. “Not only do you not know me that well, but you have a man, and you live in California. Beau has asked me to stay here as head chef.”
Crisp snorted so hard, it hurt. “I don’t have a man. I have an ungrateful bastard of a patient I saved for reasons beyond me. But beyond that, no, I don’t plan to return to California.”
He felt Fabrice’s stare boring into him.
Crisp shrugged. It was an uncomfortable motion. He rolled the wine bottle between his hands and refused to meet Fabrice’s gaze. “The DNA test results showed Tidy and me are the only ones with zero blood ties to anyone.”
“What does that matter? These are still your brothers.”
Were they? Had they ever been? He shrugged again.
That was all Crisp had. He couldn’t put his feelings into words.
Every which way he looked at things, he sounded “woe is me.” The thing was, though, he had never had anything that felt like it was for him.
He stayed with the guys because that was the plan.
When they decided to put their skills to use, he did his part because that was the plan.
He was here right now because he was told that was where they would be for a few months.
Now he thought maybe he should stop just being part of the plan.
“Maybe I just need one decision to be mine. It’s peaceful here. I think, for once, I’ll choose my path and just stay. Beau has made it clear we are under his protection with no strings, and we can come and go as we please between both properties. So, I’ll stay.”
Fabrice didn’t respond, but the silence was peaceful. They drank their wine. Fabrice disappeared and reappeared with new bottles when they finished the first. He wasn’t sure he could make it back to his room when the time came.
“You know what?” Fabrice asked out of the blue. He didn’t give Crisp time to respond. “I’m choosing happiness. It’s like you said. The time has come to make a decision for only ourselves. My choice is to be happy. No matter where I have to find joy, it’s my time to be selfish. We should fuck.”
A loud laugh burst from Crisp in his surprise. “Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you. You just caught me off guard.”
Fabrice’s smile didn’t dim. Honestly, he was a sexy guy.
Crisp opened his mouth to agree, reaching for any happiness he could get.
“No. This one is busy.” The thick Russian accent cut through the darkness. Jay looked pale even with the only lighting coming from the pool. He looked like shit and shaky, but Crisp’s ridiculous heart soared at the sight of him.
“Oh. Ha! It’s the ungrateful bastard. Hi, ungrateful bastard. I’m Fabrice, your chef for the evening.” Fabrice laughed hard at himself. “Every evening, actually.”
Crisp couldn’t look away from Jay. His mouth was drier than the desert—like he hadn’t been drinking all night. “You shouldn’t be here. If anyone sees you—”
“No one sees me unless I choose to show myself. It’s time for bed.”
Crisp’s body melted. As wild as it sounded, he missed the sound of Russian accents, especially when spoken against his skin. “I don’t think I can make it.”
Fabrice crawled from the lounge. “Come on. We’ll lean on each other. My room is two doors down from yours.”
That brought Crisp’s focus back to Fabrice. “I didn’t know that. How have I been here for months and not known that?”
Fabrice laughed and towed Crisp to his feet. “Because, much like you, Crispy, no one sees me.”
Crisp groaned. People had a habit of eventually resorting to calling him Crispy. He didn’t exactly hate it, but neither did he love it.
“He doesn’t like that nickname.”
At Jay’s words, Crisp’s gaze immediately focused on him. “How did you know that?”
Jay didn’t look his way as the three of them made their way to their rooms, leaning heavily on one another. “I listen when you talk.”
Crisp’s throat swelled. His eyes stung. He had no clue why he was so moved, but he was. “Thanks for that.”
Jay’s gaze moved his way. His brow was furrowed as if Crisp confused the hell out of him. “That’s a ridiculous thing to be thankful for. Listening is the bare minimum anyone should give you when you speak.”
Fuck. Jay didn’t even realize how few people gave that bare minimum. Most people were just waiting for their turn to speak in a conversation while not hearing a word.
Jay tensed as they reached their room.
Crisp jumped to attention, sobering in an instant as he caught sight of a night guard heading their way. Crisp opened the door to their apartment and body-checked Jay into the room.
Fabrice sprang to the rescue. He walked ahead, drawing the attention his way. “Jett. My man, do I have a proposition for you.”
A roar of laughter ripped from Crisp even as he leapt inside and locked the door.
He turned and found himself staring at Jay’s retreating back.
Through the open doorway, he watched Jay climb under the covers.
An odd sense of peace washed over him. Jay was a full agent.
Whereas Crisp had spent his adult years deprogramming, Jay had stayed in his place as a Russian puppet.
He didn’t know yet how to function outside that role.
He hadn’t fully shaken that brainwashing.
Yet he had come after Crisp—as if he cared.
Crisp had renewed grace he could show. That was exactly what he intended to do.