Healey flushed. “It’s okay. Yeah. No. It wasn’t normal for him to come on to me like that when we were alone. It hadn’t been normal for over a year.”
“So you blew him at the split pea soup place? Happy and Peewee must be so proud.”
“You know the place?” Healey chuckled. “I forget you’re from LA.”
“I used to hit the one in Buellton all the time with my mother.”
“That place is kitsch heaven, and Ford loves their Monte Cristo sandwiches.”
Diego frowned and went back to the fridge for bottled water. “That where things went south?”
Sighing, Healey closed his eyes. “We attracted the wrong kind of attention.”
“Easy to do when you’re in flagrante delicto.”
“True dat.” Healey’s wince acknowledged the fact. “This pickup truck followed us onto the freeway. Chased us. I tried to get Ford to pull off I-5. Tried to get him to drive to the highway patrol substation. There’s a ‘find an office’ function online.”
“Did you find one?”
“Ford wouldn’t pull off.” Healey picked up his bottle and scraped at the label. Flakes of the green spray he’d used to dye his hair had fallen, giving him green freckles alongside the copper ones. “He said he’d be damned if he’d let some rednecks ruin our trip. They started chasing us. Swerving around Ford’s SUV and braking hard so we’d have to slam on our brakes, not just kid stuff. I figured if it went on like that, we were dead.”
“Is that when Ford grabbed your phone and threw it out of the car?”
Healey’s eyes filled. “You know what happened?”
“I regret prying, now. I should have waited for you to tell me.”
Healey shrugged. “Why do you want that?”
“I want the man who”—Diego picked at an imaginary thread on his jeans—“might or might not be my boyfriend to tell me about a traumatic event from his past.”
“Ford wasn’t himself. I—” Healey licked his lips “—I guess he believed I meant to have the police arrest him. He thought I—”
“He was paranoid, in other words.” Healey nodded. “So if I understand correctly, he—”
“His mood went south, that fast.” Healey snapped his fingers. “He pulled a gun from the console and pointed it at me.”
“Christ.” Diego set his water down with a thunk. “Where’d he get the gun?”
“The fuck should I know! I’d never seen it before. He didn’t fire it—just waved it around. But the guys in the truck saw it. After that, they took off, and Ford floored it. I couldn’t believe he wanted to go after them. We clipped the back of their truck and spun out. Rolled maybe . . . three times?”
Healey’s eyes lost focus. His speech slowed. Diego clasped his hand and, finding it ice cold, rubbed it between his own to warm it. “Then what?”
“I got this weird sense of calm. I remember thinking if I could only get my phone back, I’d record my thoughts for Nash and Pop and Shelby. It seemed like hours before the car stopped moving.”
Diego lifted Healey’s hand to his lips. Healey cupped his jaw and stared at him. Diego read confusion, anguish, and resignation on Healey’s handsome features. Despite that, his instinct for the story took over. “What about the gun? Was Ford still in possession of the gun at that point?”
The abrupt question seemed to snap Healey back to his senses. He shook his head minutely. “The gun flew out of Ford’s hand during the accident, I guess. It disappeared somewhere. There was dust and debris in the air. The threat of fire. Ford was in a rage. He crawled out and threw himself at the men in the truck. They were injured and in no condition to fight. Ford had to be restrained.”
“He wasn’t injured?”
“I’m sure he was concussed. I was. He had burns on his face from the airbag. Two black eyes. I don’t know if they were anything more than superficial injuries. I didn’t see him after the accident because I was still trapped in the car.”
“That must have been awful.” Diego pressed their foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”
“Firefighters and police arrived on the scene pretty quickly, I think. I don’t even remember that part, only when I was free. They took initial information at the scene. The dudes in the truck talked plenty. They interviewed the guys from the truck again at the hospital. Ford and me separately, at the hospital and at the station.”
“I’ll bet their story didn’t line up with yours.”
“There were a couple of witnesses. A lady in a blue Prius pulled over. She got video. I guess I was starting to go into shock. I was cold.”
Diego’s eyes narrowed. “So why the gag order?”
“I don’t know.”
“Normally, it’s to keep from prejudicing a potential jury pool. I have a suspicion what’s involved here is privilege. I think someone’s trying to cover it up.”
“I doubt that. That’s—”
“Business as usual.” Diego rolled to get him another beer. “Rich white college kids like you get special treatment every day.”
“The gag order is Ford’s attorney’s doing. He’s looking out for Ford, though, not me. I haven’t been charged with anything.”
“Not even indecent exposure?”
“They couldn’t legitimately prove it, so it was our word against theirs.” He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. “The attorney kept me from answering the question.”
Diego sat up. “What did Ford say?”
“He said he doesn’t remember. Everything got ugly after that. The press made us look like entitled college pinheads marauding on the taxpayers’ dime. They kept out the sex angle. The gun. Ford’s illness. Ford’s family is well off. I’m . . . you know.”
“The stalking might meet the burden for a federal hate crime but the gun escalates everything.”
Healey shook his head. “That fucking gun. How the hell . . .?”
“He didn’t use it?”
Healey gave a violent shudder.
“But he threatened you with it?”
“Obliquely.”
“What does that mean, ‘obliquely’?”
“Neither parallel nor at a right angle to.” Healey recited. “Slanted.”
The automatic reply tickled Diego’s funny bone. “Golly, Mr. Wizard.”
“Sorry.”
“Did you feel threatened?”
“I felt—” Healey blinked slowly “—shocked. I felt horrified. Ford was my lover, my best friend. I nearly shit myself. What do you think I felt? My heart was fucking broken, and it was all my fault, and . . . I still can’t believe it happened.”
Diego drew in a deep breath before letting Healey’s hand go. He sensed that Healey hadn’t admitted to himself how scared he’d been. Sensed that doing such a thing would be as painful as the event itself.
“And Ford’s email said his dad’s lawyers will try to shift the blame onto you somehow.”
“He used the words ‘throw,’ ‘under,’ and ‘bus.’”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I’m just some hookup to you. You knew about the accident—just not the whole story.” Healey pulled his car keys from the pocket of his lab coat. “I’m leaving.”
Diego caught Healey’s hand and even though he tried to pull away, Diego held fast—reasonably, assertively willing Healey to stay for a moment longer.
To his notoriously unreliable eye, Diego looked pretty sincere.
And enticing, strong, and . . . God! Who didn’t want a strong man?
Who didn’t want to lean on someone instead of being the one leaned on, for a change?
Diego whispered, “Please, don’t go.”
Healey stepped closer to the crumbling edge. “I just—”
Shameful, shameful tears gathered in his eyes.
“C’mon baby. Stay with me.” Diego held his arms out, and Healey let himself fall. “Let me take care of you.”
He didn’t need a whole lot more than a hug every now and again.
>
Normally, he was self-sufficient, not some privileged, ivory-tower-dweller with no concept how to give as well as take.
Normally, he didn’t require quite this much . . . hand holding.
“Shh.” Diego wrapped his arms around Healey’s neck and cradled him. Just fucking cradled him in those massive arms. Healey let himself be folded up and loved on, hard.
“Jesus Christ,” Diego whispered. “You know what you are? You’re a magnificent dumbass. You took good care of Ford. Of course you did. Don’t even question that.”
Did that sound come from me? Oh my God, that’s not even a human sound.
“You did everything you could for him.” Diego pulled the pin from Healey’s green sticky hair and stroked his hand over it, smoothing the long waves over his shoulder. “It’s time to let others do for you, okay? No strings, man. Just take a load off.”
Sucking in a long, slow breath, Healey regained his composure. He nodded into Diego’s shoulder before sitting up and eventually leaving him in the kitchen.
Healey washed up in the guest bath. He let a few minutes pass before—feeling like he’d come out of a dense fog—he returned and found Diego at the counter, drinking a beer and scrolling over something on his phone.
Once again, Diego left subtle space between them.
Probing the idea, Healey discovered he dug having someone who knew when to leave him alone. Diego read him pretty well. Or he was just that easy to read.
“What’s got you frowning now?” Diego’s brow rose.
Asked and answered, then. “Is there a teleprompter on my forehead?”
Diego took a swig of his beer. “Say again?”
“Am I transparent to you? You act like I’m some kind of . . . I don’t know. Cliché. Like I bore you. Like I could never surprise you.”
“Is that what you think? Yeah, okay.” Diego idly rubbed his eyebrow and grimaced—must have forgotten he’d replaced his piercing. “At first? I saw what I expected to see.”
Before Healey could jump on that, Diego held up his hands.
“That was when I didn’t know you. Before we hooked up.”
Healey nodded. “Okay.”
“But stuff didn’t add up until now. I know your story and now you’re real for me. I got some perspective. People’s lives can get fucked up through no fault of their own, I understand that.”
Healey was pretty sure he’d never get control of his throat again.
Diego handed him his beer, and he took it, gratefully. After a few swigs, he said, “I asked for help. I wasn’t trying to be some hero with Ford. It’s not about me, anyway.”
Diego had a way of peering at him and tilting his head. Looking inside him.
Irritably, Healy scrubbed at his eyes. “I asked for help. But I still fucked it—”
“Even from what little I know of you,” Diego said firmly, “I would trust you with my life.”
“Holy cow.” Healey rejected that like a mismatched organ. “I hope not.”
Diego gave his neck a rueful scratch. “It’s not as amazing a thing as you’d think. Trusting you with my life doesn’t mean trusting you with my body while I’m sleeping.”
Ah. With communication comes the light of understanding.
Healey sat back down. “Thank you for telling me why you don’t like sharing a bed. I never meant to put you on the spot like that.”
“It’s— I never had to talk about it before.” Diego’s expression was best described as having teeth pulled.
“Sorry.” Healey genuinely meant that.
“’S’nothing personal,” Diego explained. “Nobody ever cared before.”
Healey’s heart hammered. The resulting surge of blood drowned out every other sound but his quickening breaths. “It’s all right,” he promised. “I’ll earn your trust eventually or I won’t. We go on your schedule.”
“My God, Healey.” Diego reached for him. “Shut up and kiss me.”
Surprised, Healey complied. He was already into Diego way deeper than he wanted to be. Past friendship, past hooking up—not that he’d admit it, for sure.
Not that it made him feel good.
He and Ford were over. Healey hung on to that. They’d been over, and they’d let it drag on for far too long after, in his case, because he’d figured life had enough endings and beginnings, and graduation seemed to be a natural boundary. Like a river or a mountain range.
It had been years since he’d believed he and Ford would end up together on the other side. Most guys wouldn’t bet on a guy like Healey for the long term. Or Ford.
“Wait.” Healey gripped Diego’s upper arms to keep from falling at his feet. His inner kink hound was deeply, earnestly ready for someone like Diego to come along . . . but his heart wasn’t.
It really wasn’t.
“Okay, papi?” asked Diego. “What do you need?”
“Nothing,” Healey said. “Everything. Don’t let go.”
“Ah, c’mon. Shh . . .” Diego brushed Healey’s hair out of his face. “You’ve had a real tough time, huh? How about this. You go watch something on television while I—”
“Wait.” Healey stopped him with another gentle kiss. “If this is about you having a hard dick, don’t go.”
Diego pulled back sharply.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Healey changed tactics. “I am all about the D—it’s awesome. But some other time, okay?”
“Healey.” Diego studied him.
Healey shook his head. “I hurt—just—everywhere.”
Closed. As if he’d flipped some invisible sign. “I hate that you hurt because of your chingada ex—” Diego sighed. “Some other time, then.”
Healey blinked. Was he being dismissed? If this was a booty call and he wasn’t . . . um . . . up for action . . .? Was that it for Diego? Was he supposed to leave now?
He didn’t know. And maybe that should tell him something. He hesitated for a fraction of a second too long and then things just got awkward.
“Sure.” Wrapping his hand over the warm skin at the nape of Diego’s neck, he gave him a gentle massage. But not a kiss, because that would be . . . “Hit me up some other time. I’ll be down.”
As he stood to go, he felt Diego’s exasperated expression. He also felt vulnerable. Exposed. For the first time in his life, he was really into a guy who didn’t seem all that into him back.
Wow . . . that was . . . really conceited. And shitty. But now he thought about it, it was also possibly true. The idea shouldn’t have blindsided him—he’d been the aggressor all along.
Still, he lost control of his mouth as he backed toward the door. “Um . . . You did a great remodel here. At first I thought I was going to be sorry to see the changes, but I like them.”
Diego frowned at him. Maybe that was too abrupt? Maybe he should have just said he had to go? Diego’s expression grew more and more thoughtful.
“So. I’m gonna go now.”
“Healey?” Diego stopped him.
Healey closed his eyes. “Yeah?”
“Stay and watch a movie with me.”
Healey opened his mouth. Closed it. He was afraid to ask the questions on the tip of his tongue.
What did that mean?
Were they friends?
Were they boyfriends? Extended hookups with film-watching privileges?
Maybe he didn’t want to know. Maybe naming this little flame they were fanning would smother it, and he sure as hell didn’t want that. Diego’s face had gone unreadable, but his body was . . . too tight. Too controlled. He held himself stiffly, as if he was expecting to get punched.
“Sure,” Healey said carefully. Smiling, he unbuttoned his lab coat again, grateful to rid himself of his scientist costume and tie, once and for all. He took off the flannel shirt, under which he wore a Mountain Goats T-shirt.
When Diego didn’t make a crack about his taste in music—or more precisely Ford’s taste—he figured they’d leveled up, relationship-wise.
Maybe they w
ere even actually having a relationship right then.
He doubted Diego was aware. Just to be on the safe side, Healey decided to keep it to himself. “Okay then,” Healey said as Diego led him to the living room. He watched Diego transfer to the couch and gave a surprised laugh when Diego patted the cushion next to him.
“C’mon. I don’t bite.”
After he sat, Diego slung an arm around him, bravely digging his fingers oh-so-pleasurably through Healey’s green, yucky hair . . .
Oh. Wow. It felt so good. Healey closed his eyes.
The sparks were there. Their mutual attraction was undeniable. Whether they were canoodling on the couch or seeing each other across Tori’s place. Whether he was awake or asleep, he felt the chemistry that bound them together, and it was like some experimental drug.
If he and Pop could invent a way to share this feeling, they’d be richer than they’d ever dreamed.
He had no hypothesis, no idea of the outcome. He only knew he wanted more.
This was uncharted. Unexpected. Unprecedented. He was Goldilocks and this was too much and not enough and exactly right. Diego carefully cupped his chin. Pulled him closer.
“What are we doing?” Healey asked.
Diego’s hot gaze found his. “You want to talk right now?”
Healey shook his head.
“Then shut up.” Diego’s barbell winked in the faint light.
Heart thudding wildly, Healey watched him come closer . . .
The movie was something with aliens. Or monsters. When he pointed out the film was over and he had no clue what it was about, Healey’s laughter warmed his lips and they kept on kissing.
“This just in.” Healey took a deep breath. “Diego Luz masters distraction.”
“Masters what? Masters Bation?” Diego laced their fingers together. “You walked right into that one.”
Healey groaned. “Yeah, I did.”
Amused, he ran his thumb over Healey’s lips. Healey mouthed it playfully.
Healey’s hand fell lightly on his chest. “Your heart’s a little speedy.”
“Wonder why?” Diego laid his forehead against Healey’s. They bumped noses, scraped bearded cheeks together, and found each other again. Healey got him. Healey had him. Healey had almost walked away twice—twice—because he’d pushed him too far.
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