Pieces

by Shawn Lane

  Pieces

  By Shawn Lane

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2016 Shawn Lane

  ISBN 9781634861502

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  NOTE: This book was previously published by Amber Quill Press.

  * * * *

  Pieces

  By Shawn Lane

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 1

  Joshua Stevens picked up a bar towel and rubbed the highball glass, his gaze fixed on the patron sitting in the darkest corner of the bar. The man was hunched down in the booth, his expression sullen, his eyes downcast, staring at the drink in front of him.

  “Why don’t you go over and talk to him?”

  He turned to his brother, Eddie, the co-owner of the bar. “Not sure that’s a good idea. Not at the moment, anyway.”

  Eddie, who was older than Josh’s twenty-eight by three years, reached up and grabbed a bottle of rum from the top shelf directly above Josh. “Someone’s going to have to give him a ride home, anyway. Might as well be now. “

  Every year—well, for the last three—this particular patron came to their bar on this exact night. The bar, formerly known as Bill’s, had been the place they’d all hung out together at one time or another over the last several years. So much so that eventually Josh and Eddie had purchased the bar and renamed it, EJ’s. That was before Andrew’s death.

  “Can I get some more peanuts?” a customer on a barstool called out.

  “Sure.” Josh grabbed the empty bowl, filled it with cocktail peanuts, and then set it in front of the man.

  It was getting late, almost one o’clock, and the bar had mostly emptied out. Besides Peanut Man and the man in the dark corner, there was a couple cuddling in a booth just to the left of the bar.

  Eddie poured rum and Coke into a glass and then nudged Josh. “Go on. Why don’t you take him? I can handle what’s left and close up. Unless, you’d rather we call him a cab?”

  “No, I’ll get him home.” Josh tossed the towel down and walked around the corner of the bar, picking up used napkins and other trash as he went and discarding it along the way. As he approached the dark corner, the man didn’t even look up. He just continued to stare at the drink.

  “Hi, Patrick.” Josh sat across from him.

  Patrick Donovan’s gaze slowly rose to look at Josh. His blue-green eyes didn’t focus. In fact, he appeared to be looking over Josh’s shoulder.

  Three years ago this night, Patrick’s longtime lover hanged himself. Patrick had the extreme misfortune of discovering Andrew’s body. Josh had been well acquainted with both Patrick and Andrew. His mother and Andrew’s mother were sisters and he, Patrick, and Andrew had all gone to high school together.

  Josh reached across the table and covered Patrick’s hand with his. “It’s Josh.”

  Patrick blinked, and then ran his long fingers through his chin-length sandy blond hair. “I know.” He looked away.

  “Come on, I think you’ve been here long enough. I’m going to drive you home.”

  Still not looking at him, Patrick whispered, “What about Eddie? Why can’t he drive me home?”

  Josh sighed. “He would’ve, except you broke his nose the last time. He won’t do it again.”

  “I said I was sorry,” Patrick said with more than a touch of petulance.

  “I know. Still, I’m taking you home.” He gestured to the drink he had left. “I think you’ve had enough. Want me to take that away?’

  Patrick didn’t bother to answer, so Josh just scooted it across the table. Josh rose and placed his hand under Patrick’s arm, pulling him up out of the booth.

  On the one hand, Josh was glad for the man’s unexpected subdued manner, as he’d gotten violent in the past when someone tried to extract him from the bar. But it also troubled him. Patrick seemed even more despondent than usual.

  Patrick was shorter than Josh’s six-foot-two frame by several inches, only reaching to about Josh’s shoulders. Back in high school, when Josh, Andrew, and Patrick had been pretty much inseparable, Patrick had been the smallest.

  The man slumped in his arms and Josh had to lunge to keep him upright. “Easy, Patrick. I’ve got you.”

  “Need help?” Eddie yelled from behind the bar.

  Josh just shook his head. He knew well enough why Patrick preferred Eddie’s company on the way home. Andrew, being their cousin, had resembled both Josh and Eddie, but Josh looked more closely like Andrew. They’d been about the same height, the same age, the same muscular build, and had the same shade of sable hair and brown eyes. To Patrick, Josh was a constant reminder of Andrew.

  He got the other man to walk toward the exit with only a small amount of resistance. When they’d reached the door, Josh glanced back at the bar. The couple looked like they would be leaving soon, the man holding the bar tab in his hand. The man eating the peanuts had half his drink left, but the man was a regular so Josh didn’t have any concerns.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

  “Yeah. Drive carefully and call me if there are any problems.”

  Josh buckled Patrick into the seat belt of the passenger side of his old beat-up truck. One of these days he would replace the damn truck, but it still ran pretty well even if it wasn’t exactly pretty.

  “You okay there, kid?”

  “I’m fine. And I’m only a year younger than you. Not even. Just a few months.”

  “I know, but you’ll always be a kid to me.” Josh got in and started the truck. Patrick’s condominium was less than ten miles from the bar. Not many cars on the road this time of night, but Josh decided there was no need to speed. He’d rather they make it to their destination in one piece.

  Over the years, first as a patron of the bar and now as co-owner, Josh knew a few people had wandered out of the bar having drunk more than they should. Early on in their ownership, he and Eddie had decided to continue the previous owner’s free cab ride home policy. They’d used it a few times. But that didn’t deter everyone and there had been a few nasty accidents on this road.

  Patrick leaned heavily on the passenger door, his head resting against the cracked window.

  “Do you think you might be sick?” Josh asked. “I can pull over.”

  “As much of a piece of shit as this truck is, do you think anyone would notice if I puked inside?”

  He winced over the surly tone. Apparently the detached Patrick had been replaced once more by the
hostile one.

  “I’d notice. Do you need me to pull over or not?”

  “No.”

  Josh didn’t quite believe him, but didn’t see how arguing would help. If Patrick got sick all over himself and Josh’s truck, he’d make Patrick clean it.

  Right. You will not.

  He sighed and shook his head.

  “What’s that sigh for?”

  He gripped the steering wheel hard, turning his knuckles a pale, ghostly white in the dim glow of the dashboard lights. “Just wondering how long this is going to go on.”

  Patrick lifted his head off the glass and glanced at him. “What?”

  “It’s been three years,” he said quietly.

  “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know grief had a time limit.”

  “Normal grieving doesn’t last this long, Patrick. No one expects you to forget Andrew or anything, but this…this isn’t normal.”

  Patrick snorted. “I come here once a year on the day he died. Even you can’t call that excessive.”

  “Even me?”

  “Yeah, being the cold, heartless bastard you are. If this had happened to you I guess you would have gotten over it in twenty-four hours, huh?”

  “Patrick—”

  “What am I saying? That implies you actually cared enough about someone to bother to form an actual relationship past a one-night stand.”

  His jaw tightened. He willed himself not to get drawn into this same fight. Patrick was drunk. Josh, however, was completely sober.

  Whenever Patrick got mad at him, which was fairly often considering how little they saw of each other now, he found a way to bring up their one-night together. It was the summer after Patrick and Andrew graduated high school. Josh had been a year ahead of them. Patrick and Andrew weren’t yet a couple. One particularly hot summer night they’d been smoking a little too much pot and suddenly he was kissing Patrick.

  Unfortunately, the next morning Patrick thought the sex had meant more than Josh did. Josh was the first to admit he’d been young, stupid, and a bit of an ass at the time. But they’d had a huge fight about it and the next thing he knew, Andrew was Patrick’s new boyfriend.

  The silence in the truck became thick and nearly unbearable.

  “My point is, I doubt Andrew would want you to do this every time this day comes around.”

  “Andrew didn’t give a fuck about me either,” Patrick said, his voice hollow. He rested his head on the cracked window once more, closing his eyes. “Am I so unlovable?”

  Josh swallowed heavily. “Andrew was sick. What happened was not your fault in any way. You know that, right?”

  “Sure, whatever.”

  He turned down the street where Patrick’s condo was located.

  “You can just drop me here at the corner. I can walk the rest of the way.”

  “No way. I’m going to see you inside. Don’t even bother arguing.” He pulled into the driveway and drove to the back of the condo complex. “If you give me a call in the morning I’ll pick you up and take you back to your car.” He found a visitor spot not too far from Patrick’s front door and parked.

  When he got to the passenger side, Patrick had already got out of the truck and he yanked his arm away when Josh reached for it.

  “I can walk,” he grumbled.

  “Give me your keys.”

  Patrick glared. “Get ‘em yourself.” He glanced pointedly at the left front pocket of his jeans.

  Josh didn’t even hesitate and slipped his hand into Patrick’s pocket, fishing for the keys. Patrick pressed closer, taking a step until not even an inch separated them. Josh’s hand closed over the keys and he extracted them. He gently pushed Patrick toward the front door.

  Patrick leaned against the door, closing his eyes, his lips pursed.

  Josh put a steadying hand on Patrick before turning the key in the lock. He helped him into the front hallway and shut the door. Before he could do anything else, Patrick launched himself at Josh.

  Josh’s arms came around Patrick, anchoring them both. He was about to give Patrick a gentle, but firm nudge away when Patrick rose a little and pressed his lips to Josh’s. His mouth opened against the assault and Patrick’s warm, alcohol-infused tongue slipped inside. His head swam as though he’d been the one who drank too much.

  He felt the wall against his back and realized Patrick had pushed him there. Cooler heads should prevail. His brain told him that, but his cock rose in protest.

  “Josh,” Patrick moaned. “Please.”

  The plea seared through him, tingling from his toes all the way to make him light-headed. He closed his eyes, trying to resist Patrick’s pull, but knowing it would be a losing battle. He wanted this.

  “Your bedroom.” He panted.

  Patrick broke the kiss and gazed at him intently, his blue-green eyes surprisingly clear. He laced his fingers through Josh’s and tugged him toward the stairs leading to the bedrooms on the second floor. They took the stairs almost in slow motion, as if God were giving him the chance to change his mind. Damn, he should.

  Patrick yanked him into the bedroom, flicked on the overhead light, and pulled him toward the bed.

  He opened his mouth to declare they shouldn’t do this. Patrick was way too vulnerable. “Lube and a condom?”

  Patrick nodded. “Bathroom. Be right back.”

  Fuck, what was he saying? He watched the other man disappear into the bathroom, his gaze on Patrick’s cute ass.

  Patrick came back in mere seconds and tossed him the lube and the condom. Then he once more launched himself at Josh, pushing him onto the bed. “Want you.”

  “Patrick.”

  Patrick’s index finger touched his lips. “Don’t say a word. Just touch me all over.”

  Releasing a shuddering breath, Josh flipped Patrick until he lay underneath. He crushed the other man into the mattress, searing their lips together, hot and moist. His erection pressed against his pants, straining, painfully constricted.

  Without breaking the contact of their lips, Josh inched the hem of Patrick’s shirt up past his abs, past his muscular chest, and off his arms. To get it off Patrick’s head, he’d have to stop kissing him. Shaking his head, he removed his lips and pulled off the shirt. He quickly divested himself of his own T-shirt.

  Patrick stared at him, his full lips wet and swollen. Josh searched his gaze, looking for any sign he really should stop. Well, hell, he knew he should. Instead, he reached between their bodies and closed his hand over the bulge in Patrick’s pants.

  “God, yes,” Patrick whispered. “I want.”

  Josh nodded. “You take off your pants and I’ll remove mine.”

  He stood, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his jeans. He shed his jeans and briefs as quickly as he could and crawled back on the bed toward the now nude Patrick.

  Though he’d seen Patrick naked all those years ago, he stopped to view him now. There’d been changes in them both really. Just out of high school, Patrick had been slim and pale. Now his skin was a golden tan, even where underwear should have covered him from the sun. And his muscles had filled out. Not too cut, but perfectly defined.

  Yum.

  “Kiss me now.” Patrick pulled him by a chunk of hair until their mouths mashed together, their teeth clacking. It hurt a little, but he liked it.

  Eventually, he dislodged his hair from Patrick’s grasp and he held the man’s hands above his head. He knew this body, this skin. He’d kissed these lips, knew their taste. They were intoxicating. Too much, really.

  With his free hand, he stroked along the man’s chest, his fingertips grazing the copper nipples. Patrick shuddered beneath him, his eyelids drifting closed. He trailed his tongue along the path his fingers took, lapping at the gooseflesh appearing.

  Patrick moaned and rose up, pushing against his tongue and caresses. “More. Oh, God, Andrew!”

  Josh froze, straightening up from the bed. Patrick calling out Andrew’s name deflated his erection as though it had been submerged in ice wa
ter. His heart hammering in his chest, he opened his mouth to tell Patrick he was leaving. This had been a terrible idea.

  Soft snoring filled the room. The man had passed out.

  Fuck, I’m an idiot.

  Chapter 2

  Patrick wasn’t sure if it was the pounding in his head or the gardeners outside his condo using an extremely loud weed whacker that woke him. But he was pissed about both.

  It took monumental effort, but he opened his eyes. Pinpricks of sunlight streamed in through his bedroom window. Who the fuck had opened the blinds?

  Cursing under his breath, he reached over and yanked the mini-blind strings so hard it was surprising they didn’t break. The blinds blocked out the annoying sun.

  He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. His tongue felt like it had swelled to twice its normal size. And his teeth felt like they wore little furry sweaters.

  Gross.

  “Josh?” he called out, wincing at the roughened sound of his voice. Naturally, the only answer he received was a painful silence.

  “Of course he left,” Patrick muttered. He closed his eyes again, deciding he’d give in to depression and wile away the day in bed. Sure, he needed to pee, but so what? He didn’t want to move.

  The phone on his bedside table sprung to life with a startling chime. He grasped for the receiver more to shut it the hell up then to speak to the caller.

  “What?” he growled into the phone.

  “Where are you?” a male voice on the other end asked. He didn’t quite recognize it.

  “I’m in bed, where are you?”

  “At the office. Where you should be, actually.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Steve?”

  “Uh-huh.” Stephen Wagner, good friend and fellow lawyer, was calling from the Law Offices of Wagner, Thompson, and Rosenthal. Steve’s brother, rather than Steve, was the Wagner in the firm.

  “I’m…uh, indisposed.”

  “Clearly.” Steve cleared his throat. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Listen, I’m in no shape to come into the office. I don’t even have my car.”

  “Where is it?”