Restoration 01 - Getting It Right

by A. M. Arthur

  “Ew, don’t remind me.”

  Nate wandered back to the booth that Tori and Allen were still guarding. Still standing, he sipped at his Coke while searching for James. Curious who the friend was. He spotted James across the room at the bar, head bent low as he spoke to someone whose back was to him. Short, black hair. The conversation looked intense. A few minutes later, James left the bar and headed toward the front door, something in his hands.

  His phone buzzed with a text.

  James: Going out for a smoke. You doing okay?

  Nate smiled and texted back: So far so good. Want company?

  You hate that I smoke.

  I know. Still…

  Sure. 

  Nate made his excuses to Tori and Allen, then braved the crowd to get to the front door.

  The air outside was fresher, less congested with testosterone and sweat. James was leaning against the side of the building, a smoldering cigarette dangling loosely in his fingers.

  “Everything okay?” Nate asked.

  “For me it is.” James puffed on the cigarette with smiling lips. “You’re here.”

  Silly as it was, the simple compliment made Nate’s insides warm. “I hope this doesn’t come across as some weird jealousy thing, because it’s not, but—”

  “Who was I talking to?”

  “Yeah.”

  James’s good humor dimmed. “You remember the emails I sent you about Romy

  Myers?”

  “The guy who got into a bad relationship?”

  “Yes. That was him I was talking to. It wasn’t my intention when I approached him earlier, but I gave him my card and asked him to make an appointment.” James stubbed the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe, then exhaled long and hard. “He was abused, Nate. The question is how badly? He needs help.”

  Nate didn’t think before taking James’s hand and squeezing. James had an incurable need to help abuse victims, no matter who or what the circumstances, and this was no different. He hadn’t been able to save his sister, and nothing would stop him from trying to save every other abuse victim who came his way. It was both endearing and flat-out terrifying.

  “I thought treating someone you had a personal relationship with was unethical?”

  James blinked. “That was over a year ago. It’s nothing like you and me, babe. It’s…”

  “What?” Nate turned James head, made him look at him. “It’s what?”

  “The pain Romy’s trying so hard to hide? It reminds me of Laurie. More so than a lot of my other patients. I need to help him, Nate.”

  “Then you will, if he chooses to ask for help.”

  James flinched. “You want to go back in?” Nate asked, even though he much preferred the quiet of the sidewalk. “We haven’t danced yet.”

  Something a lot like arousal danced in James’s eyes. “Definitely.”

  Nate didn’t let go of his hand on their return trip. He held tight, needing the lifeline, positive everyone was staring at him. Positive they all knew he was a supposedly straight cop who’d had the shit beat out of him back in April, and that he was shaking apart on the inside because he was surrounded by strangers. James stayed close, hand firmly wrapped around his, the only anchor Nate had to reality.

  The past twenty-four hours had been nothing but surreal. And amazing.

  And terrifying.

  James stopped him before they’d reached their friends, draped both arms around Nate’s shoulders and fell into the beat of the music. Nate found the rhythm easily, his arms looping around James’s waist. He tugged James closer, mashing their hips and groins together. A flash of pleasure sent blood surging down south, and Nate wasn’t even embarrassed about getting hard.

  He was with James. As long as he was with James, everything would be okay.

  Their bodies melted together, a sensual dance that heated Nate’s blood. Arousal coursed all through his body. His ribs ached faintly from the exertion, but he didn’t care. He needed this.

  He needed to be with James this way, to show the world that James was off the market. He was claimed.

  He’s mine.

  For years, Nate had kept his heart hidden from the world, because he hadn’t realized it already belonged to James. Now that he knew, he couldn’t imagine taking it back. James loved him, and even though he hadn’t said it as directly as James had, Nate loved him back. More than he’d thought possible.

  He pressed his forehead to James’s, their hot breaths mingling, almost nose to nose. Eyes closed. Only touch and scent and sound existed. He longed to bring taste into play, to break that public barrier and say once and for all that they were together.

  James lost the beat, only for a second, but enough for Nate to open his eyes. James was watching him, eyebrows furrowed. A well-built man about James’s height had plastered himself across James’s back, his chin resting on James’s shoulder.

  “Hey, Tag, who’s the fresh meat?” the stranger all but slurred. He was handsome in his own way, with spiky brown hair and a stud in his nose, and he was invading their space. Nate nearly growled at the guy.

  “Hey, Jens.” James said it without even looking, his irritation clear. “This is Nathan.

  Nathan, Jens.”

  “The bestie who went AWOL all summer?” Jens chuckled as if he’d told a funny joke.

  The asshole was wasted. “A few broken ribs finally convince you to come to our side, honey?”

  “Fuck off, Jens, you’re drunk and not funny.”

  “I know I’m drunk. Wanna dance, hot stuff?” he asked Nate.

  “I’m taken,” Nate replied.

  Jens slithered around and draped himself over Nate’s shoulders. The contact made Nate’s stomach turn. He tensed, not liking the stranger behind him. “Oooh, if he’s taking you right now, can I watch?”

  Nate’s gut rolled. He stopped dancing. “Back off.”

  James peeled Jens away and gave him a gentle shove. “Go home. You’re drunk.”

  Jens flipped him off, then danced his way up to another nameless guy in the crowd.

  Nate didn’t protest as James led him off the dance floor to a less busy corner of the club.

  His adrenaline was up, his blood pulsing, and not in the same fun way it had been five minutes ago.

  “Sorry about him,” James said.

  “Friend of yours?” Nate tried for flip, but all he managed was a pathetic crack in his voice.

  “Acquaintance. He can be handsy.”

  “I figured that one out, thanks.”

  James didn’t patronize him by asking if he was okay. “Nate, may I ask you something?”

  He shrugged, not in the mood to examine his psyche in the middle of a gay club. “I guess so.”

  “You don’t get all tense and nervous when I touch you, right?”

  “Right.” He loved James’s touch. It made him feel safe in ways he could never verbalize.

  “Is there anyone else whose touch doesn’t make you get tense and nervous?”

  Nate stared at a spot on the wall, unable to meet James’s eyes while his thoughts tumbled around, searching for an answer. He jumped whenever someone sneaked up on him but that wasn’t James’s question. James’s hand on his shoulder didn’t make his skin crawl. James hugging him didn’t make every muscle freeze up. In some ways, recovering at home had been the best thing for him. In other ways, it had been hell on earth.

  He had a large extended family on his father’s side, most of whom lived within thirty miles of Oak Orchard, which meant frequent visitors while he healed. Which meant lots of hugs once his ribs had mended. Hugs that left his insides squirrelly and his shoulders tight. He hadn’t said anything. His family loved him, and they wanted him to get better. How could he tell them their hugs and shoulder pats made him feel worse?

  “Nana,” Nate said. His paternal grandmother lived a few doors down from his parents, and she’d been a part of his life always. A steady, kind woman with a big heart, her hugs were infrequent, but she meant
business when she offered one. He’d never jumped at her touch.

  “Sometimes Mom.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “I attacked him twice, remember?”

  “That didn’t answer my question.”

  Nate looked everywhere except at James. “We didn’t hug much before this, and he hasn’t tried since. But whenever he touches my shoulder or pats my arm, I get tense. It’s stupid, right?

  He’s my dad, he’s not the asshole who hurt me.”

  “PTSD doesn’t always make sense, babe.”

  “No shit. Look, can we go home? The whole welcome-back party has kind of lost its sense of fun.”

  “Of course.” James grinned. “My home or your home?”

  Nate thought about last night’s absolute failure at getting any sleep at his place. “Your home, if we can swing by mine for a few things.”

  “Sure. You can stay with me as long as you need to, you know that. You’d have been staying there this whole time if I’d had my way.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You want to wait here while I make our excuses?”

  “Yes.” He couldn’t handle another trek across the dance floor tonight. All he wanted was fresh air and James.

  “Be right back.”

  James planted a firm kiss on his mouth before he left. Nate licked his lips, not caring who had seen, because why should he? James was his. Even if he couldn’t say it first, nothing or no one would ever make Nate deny it. Not ever again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  All day Sunday, James seemed to make it his sole mission to stay as close to Nate as physically possible—not that Nate was complaining. He enjoyed their day spent napping, cuddling, sucking, fondling and generally being together, in bed and out. They ordered delivery and spent hours curled together on the couch watching movies. Nate couldn’t have asked for a better day, or a keener sense of safety. It was the safest he’d felt since the assault. Even two hundred miles away with his parents, he hadn’t felt this protected, and it had everything to with James.

  Monday, he woke with the sinking realization that James had to go to work, which meant at least eight to ten hours without him. He tried to push it out of mind while he and James got ready for the day.

  “Want me to stop by after I get off work?” James asked as they walked toward the parking garage.

  “Sure, just call and let me know. I can throw together something to eat.”

  “Out of milk and frozen dinners?”

  “And Oreos.”

  “Can’t forget dessert.”

  “I’ll go to the store and buy real food, okay?”

  “Okay. You’re going into the station?”

  “Lieutenant Danvers is expecting me by nine.” Nate’s stomach tightened at the thought of bullshitting his way through this interview, but he had no other choice. He needed to get back to work. Sitting around all day was not helping his state of mind. “I’ll also do my first surveillance of your mom this afternoon.”

  James smiled. “I hope this works and she’s just being paranoid.”

  “Odds are in your favor.”

  “For a change. Any plans between the station and my mother?”

  Nate shook his head. “I was thinking about a walk down by the Brandywine.”

  “Alone?” The curious, nonpatronizing way James asked that was the only reason Nate didn’t slug him.

  “Yes, alone. It’s broad daylight, the sun is shining and I won’t be the only person walking or jogging. I’ll be fine.” He just had to repeat “I’ll be fine” a few hundred more times so he’d believe it himself.

  “Call me if you need anything.” James stopped near the stairs. He’d parked on a higher level. “I mean it. I’ll tell Gina to put you through unless I’m dealing with a crisis patient.”

  “Thanks, Jay.” Nate glanced around, then kissed him. Fast, because every time they’d kissed during the weekend, it had led to more. More would make them both late. “See you tonight.”

  “Definitely.”

  He waited until James disappeared into the stairwell, then continued on to this truck. He wasn’t used to getting to the station from this side of town—living close to work had its uses when he ended up doing twelve hours or more—but he still found it by memory. For four years, he’d worked in this station as a junior detective. He had an exemplary record, a high number of solved cases and the respect of his coworkers.

  So why was he sitting in the parking lot with the engine idling, both shoulders locked so tightly that he couldn’t go inside? He couldn’t turn the key, open the door or climb out. His limbs weren’t responding to his mental commands.

  “It’s a fucking interview, Wolf. Get your ass inside and talk to your lieutenant.”

  The verbal command didn’t help. The dash clock screamed that he had five minutes to get inside or he’d be late, and being late was not something Nate liked. Early was on time and on time was late. His parents had installed that in him, and it had been a revelation to find the same trait in James—especially as college freshmen. The guys on their dorm floor used to make fun of them both for never missing a single class.

  What would Jay think of you sitting here like a wimp?

  His arms unlocked. Nate yanked his keys out and tried to keep a steady gait on the walk to the station’s front doors. He answered friendly greetings from the desk clerk and the desk sergeant. Slid his ID card into the lock, then opened the door to the rear offices.

  “I heard a rumor you’d resurfaced.” Detective Cary’s voice boomed across the bullpen, causing several heads to raise from their desks. He strode over, a wide smile on his lined face, hand out.

  Nate shook, hating himself for his stiffness but genuinely glad to see the older man. “Hi, Wally.”

  “Welcome back, son, and I mean that. You had us all worried.”

  Bravado in the face of comrades overcame his underlying fear that everyone was staring at his scars. “It’ll take more than a nutjob with a knife to take me out of the game. I come from heartier stock than that.”

  “I believe it. You here to see Danvers?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been laying on my ass for too long as it is. I need to get back to work.”

  “I hear you. Welcome back to the land of workaholics.”

  “Gee, thanks. You been taking care of my cases?”

  “Sure enough. I even solved one for you. Grabbed the two guys who did the Hilltop burglary.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep. One of them got a deal for turning over information on their fence, but we got most of the stuff back.”

  “That’s great.” Nate hated having missed out on solving one of his own cases. Knowing a couple of thieves were off the streets for a while made it worth it.

  He bypassed his old desk, pleased to see his nameplate was still there and the blotter set to the month of September. The LT’s office was in the back, the glass windows shuttered. Nate checked his watch. 8:59. He tapped the glass.

  “Come in!”

  Lieutenant Charles Danvers was the kind of police officer that Nate aspired to be—

  committed, fair, long-term career, with nearly every commendation the mayor could bestow on a cop. He oversaw his detectives and officers like a benevolent ruler, watching and offering support, but not a man to ever be crossed. He sat behind his desk, red-haired and freckle-faced, and still in perfect shape despite his age.

  “Welcome back, Detective Wolf,” Danvers said. “Have a seat.”

  The gruff formality raised Nate’s hackles a bit, but he did as told, sitting in one of the pleather chairs opposite the wide desk. “Thank you, sir.”

  “I have to admit, I’m impressed.”

  Nate frowned. “Sir?”

  “You took more than four months of leave after your injuries. Most men would be back at work as soon as they hit the doctor’s minimum, so they don’t look weak. I say a strong man knows when he needs his rest.”

  “I didn’t w
ant to risk a physical relapse, sir.” The lie fell off Nate’s tongue easily. He’d stayed away so long because he was fucking scared. Scared of going back to work. Scared of being vulnerable to the next crazy who decided he was an easy target. Scared of seeing James again. Not that he’d admit to anyone that he’d been scared. Especially not to James.

  “Good, good. Now to business. I have you scheduled to see Lisa today, Wednesday and Friday. If her report is positive, you can return to regular duty a week from today.”

  Nate had met Dr. Lisa McMillian once about a year ago at a work function. She seemed to be a competent psychiatrist, and he had no qualms about three appointments with her. He had the proper letters from his downstate doctor and psychiatrist, and he knew all of the right things to say. Going through Dr. McMillian was a formality, not a challenge.

  “I appreciate that, sir,” Nate said.

  “Now, you know you won’t be back on active cases right away.”

  “Of course.” He had known that, and it didn’t bother him. Desk duty would give him a chance to review his own case file, as well as see what progress had been made with Mitchell Spokes’s case. Sometimes fresh eyes put things together in a way that the active investigator couldn’t see.

  Danvers smiled in a way that might have been patronizing if it had been anyone else in that desk chair. “You’re an excellent detective, Nathan. We’ll get you back out there as soon as we can, you have my word.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He slid a piece of paper across the desk. “First appointment is at eleven. Figured you’d want to get started.”

  Nate took the paper, printed on department letterhead. All three appointments were at the same time. Good. “I appreciate that.”

  “Then welcome back, son. I’ll see you again on Monday.”

  “Count on it, sir.”

  James couldn’t explain the jolt of relief he’d felt that morning when his assistant told him that Romy Myers had made an afternoon appointment. Part of him was afraid he’d scared the poor guy off on Saturday after practically shoving his business card into his pocket. Hell, he’d see Romy free of charge if it helped exorcise some of the demons in his eyes and bring back a sliver of the spunky young man he’d hooked up with last year.