by Jay Hogan
His disappointed expression held not a trace of the arrogant arsehole I’d built up in my head. Shit. I so wasn’t prepared for that little heartwarming admission, and stripped of a snarky comeback by his unexpected candidness, I floundered for a response.
I should ask him to stay, right? Say something, anything, but to be truthful, I was still stuck on the ridiculous notion that he thought I was gorgeous? And smart? And… fuck. Somehow, I’d already gotten to my feet and accepted his hand, trying to ignore that tingle running through me as his warm fingers wrapped around mine and pumped once. And yes, my mind was immediately pondering what else they could wrap around, so sue me.
He headed out without another word, leaving me standing in my office with my jaw on the floor like a fucking idiot having not said a damn thing to stop him. Still, he’d given me exactly what I wanted, right? To be left alone. Not like I was interested in dating, was it?
Jesus Christ. I only had to look back on the past forty-eight hours of my self-imposed isolation to understand why dating was a bad, bad idea. Like being hit in the face with a wet fish. No guy is gonna want to put up with the distasteful vagaries of my fucking condition. Been there, done that, got that T-shirt. So why did it feel like I’d just thrown away something important? ’Cause you’re a lonely freaking idiot, that’s why. Well, shit.
Any effort at self-reflection ended right then with a commotion in the hall two seconds before my clinic partners hared through the door and onto my couch in a riotous whirl of colour. Pillows were pumped and shoes discarded before an expectant silence fell in the room.
“So, who is he?” Carly demanded, battling her awesome curves into submission in the chair. From there she observed me greedily, green eyes sparkling beneath waggling charcoaled eyebrows and a wild attack of red curls.
From the couch opposite, Dana nodded with undisguised enthusiasm. “What she said. Now spill.” In contrast to Carly, Dana’s petite frame offered living proof of the concept “thin as a beanpole.” All elbows and notched shoulders, buzzed blonde hair and attitude, the woman ate like a horse, ran marathons for fun, and was the sole reason the clinic was so successful. What she couldn’t do with spreadsheets and tax exemptions wasn’t worth mentioning.
Like chalk and cheese, I loved them both dearly. I had known Dana since midwifery school and Carly since we’d become clinic partners, and though I failed to understand why they’d been so recklessly keen to throw their lot in with me, a gay male midwife with brittle health, I was so damn grateful that they had. In the two years since, we’d become family in the best way. I tried to remember that now as I eyed their salivating mouths.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I returned to my desk and flicked through my paperwork, biting back a smile.
“Nuh-uh. Don’t even think about it.” Dana strode over and grabbed my monthly stats from my hand. Then she pointed to the couch. “Sit.”
I sat.
She took the opposite end. “He’s the one who arrested you, right?” Statement, not question.
“How did you know?”
She threw me a sly grin. “I have an online presence too, you know.”
Carly and I looked at each other and laughed. Dana kept her private life locked down tighter than Fort Knox. The idea of her engaging in any social media was outrageous.
Her brows drew down in a frown. “Just because I don’t post what I had on my toast for breakfast every damn day doesn’t mean I’m socially handicapped. I saw your video, after all.”
Couldn’t argue with that.
“Does this mean the yummy detective is gay?” Carly leaned forward.
“Wipe the drool off your chin,” I told her. “And yes, he’s gay.”
“Ooooh,” she purred. “Did he ask you on a date?”
I sighed and fell back in the chair. “He’s a cop. How do you know he wasn’t just following up on Saturday? Why is it always about sex with you two?”
“Ooooh. So he did ask you out.” Carly leaned back and steepled her fingers in front of her chest.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Maybe not but it was you who mentioned the sex word. I only said date.” She batted her lashes innocently. “Freud and all, sugar.”
I gave her my best eye roll, the one I reserved for truly annoying family, and willed my phone to ring with a client so I could shut the whole conversation down. ’Cause from experience I knew nothing else was gonna cut it. “Guys, come on.”
Dana sat up. “In answer to your question, it was plain as day he wasn’t here about your shenanigans on Saturday…”
“Shenanigans?”
“… becaaaauuuse he made no mention of being a cop. He simply asked if you were in and when we said you weren’t, he said he’d wait. I warned him you could be a while, and he said that was fine, he wasn’t in a hurry. In fact, if I hadn’t recognised him from the video clip, I wouldn’t have had a clue he was even a cop. Then when he saw you pull in, he was out that door faster than you could say perky dick.”
Huh. “He said he was prepared to wait?” How to feel even more of a jerk.
Dana nodded. “As long as it took.”
Fuck.
Her gaze narrowed as she slumped against the couch cushions. “You screwed up, didn’t you?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t screw up. You know damn well I’m in no position to date.”
Dana’s eyes popped. “Whoa on there, handsome. Don’t you dare put words in my mouth.”
“Our mouths,” Carly piped up. “And yeah, what she said.”
Dana arched an eyebrow. “We know no such thing. There’s no reason you can’t date….”
For fuck’s sake. “We’ve been over this. There’s a million reasons—”
“Hey.” She stabbed a finger at me. “I’m talking here, which means you shouldn’t be. Got it?”
Jesus Christ. Save me from stroppy women with protective instincts the size of fucking Australia and mouths to match. I shut up.
Dana’s expression softened. “You know we love you, right?”
I felt a “but” coming and nodded anyway.
“And we would never say anything to hurt you, right?”
Oh yeah. Definitely a “but.”
“But you have Crohn’s disease, not bloody end-stage terminal cancer, you dipshit.”
And there it was.
“Other people with equally vicious chronic illnesses manage to have a life and even a family. Get over yourself and give people a chance.”
“Easy for you to say,” I bit back. “When was the last time either of you turned down a date because there wasn’t a close enough bathroom on that romantic walk along the beach or that invigorating bush hike? Or because you were in too much pain that day or simply too fucking exhausted, or knew you couldn’t eat any of the food at the restaurant he wanted to take you to and rada, rada, rada?
“When did you last have to explain that you didn’t want to stay over because you currently needed to sleep on towels for the night sweats? Or even worse, explain in advance the possibility of an inconvenient ‘accident’ that might happen at any time but especially during sex and especially during a flare-up. Not to mention that any sex at all might be off the table for weeks or even months at a time if things got really bad. A real selling point, that one.
“And what about how all of that might just put a downer on any and all dating, let alone your libido and sexy times in general. Not to mention the being gay part, where that particular piece of anatomy is kind of a crucial component in sex and means needing to have these conversations pretty damn early while being scared shitless you’ll frighten the guy off.
“What if he’s a preferential top, and I can’t bottom for him as often as he’d like, let alone as often as I’d like, if at all. Jesus, guys, do you have any idea what it feels like to finally take a chance on someone you really like and then watch their attraction to you dissolve into distaste and a million other excuses to clear the fuck out of it because th
ey can’t deal with your disease? ‘Don’t call me, I’ll call you.’ Do you?
“It takes all the energy I have to get through an average day without adding a ton of relationship angst to the pot, and hey, I’m one of the lucky ones. My Crohn’s mostly sits in the mild to moderate range. I’ve pretty much lived in remission over the last ten years with only a few major flare-ups but who knows when that will change, like last weekend for instance after ‘you know who’ fucking arrested me.”
I ran out of steam and an awkward silence rushed to fill the vacuum. Carly shuffled in her seat, picking at a thread on her cushion, but Dana’s level gaze never wavered once from mine.
“I take it there’s a point in there somewhere?” she asked benignly, keeping a straight face. “I mean, far be it from me to interrupt you on a roll.”
I stared at her for a few seconds, then snorted and shook my head. “Jesus Christ, woman, come here.” I pulled her over for a hug and buried my face in her shoulder. “God, I love you guys,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. Seconds later, Carly joined in the hug from the side.
And I did love them. God knows most people didn’t want to even mention my Crohn’s other than offer helpful “suggestions” they’d read somewhere or seen on television or the internet, as if I hadn’t researched that fucker to death over the last ten years. But these two women not only accepted and talked openly about it, they called me on my shit as well, pun fully intended.
And it wasn’t like I didn’t know I was being a fucking scared rabbit about the whole dating thing, it was just that living with this bloody disease was bad enough without being rejected by guys again and again because of it. Better to not want and wonder, better to put a lid on that shit fast. Easier all around.
It’s not that Dana and Carly were ignorant of what Crohn’s had cost me. Hell, they lived with the impact of it on my life on a day-to-day basis, covering for me when I was too sick to move and couldn’t make my appointments. If anyone had a right to front me, they did.
Dana pulled back, her eyes red-rimmed and wet. She reached for the ever-present box of Kleenex always on my table and helped herself to a fistful. “We don’t mean to be jerks,” she apologised, glancing back at Carly, who nodded in agreement. “We know you’ve been dealt a crap hand. God, those fucking puns.” She laughed and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “But you’re too damn good to put yourself on a shelf. You deserve a real life and a guy who’s gonna love everything about you.” She sat back down and eyed me seriously. “You do know that, right?”
Did I? I wasn’t sure I could even afford to entertain the possibility. I wiped her damp cheek with my thumb. “Maybe. I’m just not sure I’ll survive another disappointment like Jared. Walking out like he did nearly fucking killed me. You know that, you were both there. I was in hospital for two months.”
To be honest I didn’t totally blame Jared. Hell, I’d walk out on me too, if I had the choice. Still, I’d genuinely loved him, and we’d been together for nearly two years before he left, though to be fair I’d been in remission for the first eighteen months of that so he didn’t really know what he’d signed up for. But then I was hit with a major flare-up, and one too many cancelled dinners and a life that revolved around my health was suddenly more than he could deal with.
It hurt like fuck at the time and the flare-up, coupled with Jared’s rejection, sent me into a depressive tailspin that had taken some deep digging to get me out in one piece. Little wonder I’d given up on dating. Was I lonely? Fuck, yeah, I could admit that now. But Grindr and the odd hookup when I was well enough ticked enough boxes to keep me going… most days anyway. Not that I’d even done that in a long while.
Dana patted my chest fondly. “Disappointment sucks arse, I know. But it would suck more to miss out on a good guy because you were too chickenshit to even try. You deserve to be happy, Ducks.”
My face cracked a smile as it always did at her ridiculous pet name for me.
Carly pushed up from the couch. “Oh. My. God. You guys are killing me. Group hug, group hug.” She wrapped her arms around the two of us and squeezed hard.
“Promise me you’ll at least think about it,” Dana mumbled into my jacket. “After all, he already knows about the Crohn’s and he came to see you anyway. That’s a big point in his favour, right? Maybe you could offer him the same courtesy of not prejudging.”
Ouch. “If I do, will you promise to not bug me about dating again for another six months at least?”
She stood back and gave me a three-fingered salute. “Scout’s honour.”
I snorted. “Which might mean something if you were ever a scout.”
“Never said I played fair, did I?” She kissed my cheek soundly and headed out the door.
Chapter Four
Caleb
“LET ME get this straight,” I said, doing my level best not to laugh. “You’re saying that it never once occurred to you, while emptying five bags of your dog’s excrement through the window of your ex-boyfriend’s car, that it might not be the best solution?” I tipped my eyes at my partner Leanne, whose desk abutted mine and who was busy listening in to my phone conversation with undisguised glee. “Or that your ex-boyfriend might consider calling the police and that, yes, filing for a restraining order against you would be completely within his rights.”
Deciphering the young woman’s words between fraught sobs and increasingly hysterical rants was becoming more and more difficult. To be honest I sympathised. The guy sounded a total jerk, one she’d caught in flagrante delicto with her best friend in said car the night before.
“No, no I was just so mad at hiiiiimmm—” A howl choked off the end of her sentence.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Look, miss, could you try and listen, just for a minute, please? Take a big breath and calm down. Breathe in… and out… and in… there you go.”
She quietened to the occasional whimpering sob.
“Good. Now my suggestion is this. There’s nothing in our system as yet, so it doesn’t appear he’s made that complaint official. I’ll make some notes on our conversation for the record, but you might want to consider heading him off with an apology in some form before it gets to that point. If you want to do that in person and are concerned for your safety, we can try and arrange for someone to accompany you, but maybe a simple phone call would be the best way to start. Failing that, there isn’t much we can do as you aren’t the injured party as such, and you may just have to wait and see if he follows through.”
A long silence was followed by a snivelling grunt of what I assumed to be agreement, some curt thanks, and an even sharper disconnect. I held the phone away from my ear and shook my head.
“Oh. My. God.” Leanne doubled over with laughter. “I wish I’d thought of that when old ratface crawled out from under his rock and did the dirty on me last year. Milo’s crap can reach epic proportions.”
Milo was Leanne’s Bouvier des Flandres and man, she wasn’t kidding. I’d seen the mountains of shit that dog made in her backyard first-hand.
“Jesus, Caleb, you do attract the crazies.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose noisily, still chuckling.
“And still it’s only Thursday,” I replied with a grin. “Think what I can achieve by the weekend.”
“Ashton?”
I swung around to face my sergeant, a fiftysomething bighearted South African with a penchant for Thai food and lawn bowls. He’d been a member of the Whangarei force for thirty years, knew everyone’s secrets, and remembered everyone’s birthday. None of us wanted to even entertain the thought of what was gonna happen when he retired next year. He held the whole place together even on his days off.
“For you.” He pressed a piece of paper into my hand with a smirk. “He’s downstairs. I said you were in and told him to wait. That said, I’m not your bloody dating service, detective.”
What the…?
Leanne leaned over to sneak a look.
“Piss off.” I rolled my chair out of her reach a
nd unfolded the paper.
About last week. I think I might owe you an apology. Can I buy you a coffee if you’re free? Drake.
Air whooshed out of my lungs and my chest tightened. Holy shit. How about that? It’s not like I’d forgotten about the guy. Hell, most of my recent shower sessions had centred around the gorgeous spiky midwife and his snarky mouth. It’s just I’d pretty much given up on any chance of there being more than that. Having decided to take Carmen at her word and take a risk on the guy, it had been a rude awakening to find myself shot down in flames for the second time. Though why I ever imagined he was simply waiting for me to ask again so he could fall at my feet, I’ll never know. It hardly fit with the man’s temperament, something that became immediately apparent in our very limited and short conversation at his clinic.
The only thing accomplished in that particularly embarrassing interlude was to cement my attraction for the feisty midwife. I grinned, remembering his words to me. “Uneducated” indeed. And I had been. But no longer.
I studied the man’s blocky handwriting, aware of Leanne’s eyes fixed on me.
“Well? You gonna share?”
“Nope,” I answered, grabbing my jacket. “Hold the fort, I’m off to lunch.”
“Wait. You can’t just leave like that.” She threw her pen on her desk, where it rolled onto mine. “How am I supposed to gossip about you when I don’t have all the deets?”
I snorted and lobbed her pen back. “Since when has that ever stopped you?”
She grinned widely. “True. Catch you later, handsome.”
AT THE door leading into the station foyer, I paused and stood for a minute watching Drake through the one-way glass. His slender body was squished at the end of an uncomfortable bench seat, the only place to sit, fighting for room with a couple of brawny men whose ample tatted frames filled the remainder and then some. The comparison only made Drake appear more willowy and graceful. One leg jiggled nervously, and he wore an adorable stunned-mullet expression, as if he couldn’t quite understand how he’d found himself there in the first place and was searching for any reason not to be.