by E M Lindsey
Fitz snorted as he sat on the edge of the bed and gently ran the cloth over Antoine’s cheeks. He’d need a long, thorough shower, but it was helping. “No. This is rock star treatment. Only the best for our Hollywood guests.”
Antoine peered one eye open at him. “Hollywood is garbage.”
“I stand by my statement,” Fitz told him. And there it was, that pigtail pulling antagonism, because what he really wanted to do was pull down Antoine’s sweats and suck him until he begged to come.
Antoine didn’t rise to the bait this time, though. He just offered one arm, and then the other as Fitz cleared up the soot and smoke residue. The washcloth was probably ruined, but he had a feeling the Motels would understand. When he tossed it to the side and moved to stand, Antoine’s hand darted out and seized his wrist.
“Are you in pain?” Fitz asked, sinking back down.
Antoine swallowed. “Yes. No. I mean, it’s not unbearable.”
Fitz dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. “Can I help?”
“No.” Antoine breathed out, and Fitz caught movement behind the grey fabric of his sweats and the realization he was getting hard hit him like a freight train. “Why do you hate me so much?”
Fitz’s heart hammered in his chest. “I don’t know. Why do you think you’re better than everyone here?”
“I,” Antoine said. He laughed which triggered a coughing fit, and his eyes filled with tears as he laid a careful hand over his ribs. “Fuck, that hurts.”
Fitz went to soothe him with a slow stroke over his skin, but Antoine shoved his hand lower without preamble. “Antoine…”
“I hate the way you say my name,” Antoine said, but there was rich heat in his voice as he held Fitz’s palm to where he was throbbing and hot. “It’s so…fucking American. So small town.”
“Antoine,” Fitz said again, and then he dragged the heel of his palm over Antoine’s clothed dick.
Antoine arched as far as his body would allow, and Fitz gave up all pretense of not wanting this. He dug his fingers into the waistband of the sweats and tugged until Antoine’s cock was exposed. It was long, and it was thick, precome beading at the tip. His mouth watered, but he knew he wasn’t going to give in to what he wanted. Not yet. He had some willpower left, even if it was just a thread.
He lifted his left hand, then changed his mind and made a loose fist with his right. He couldn’t feel Antoine’s cock—not really. A faint heat, a little pressure, but the fire had taken most of that away from him. “You want it, Hollywood, you need to do the work. This is my burned hand and I don’t have nerves there anymore.”
“Why that one?” Antoine asked, even as he began to thrust his hips.
Fitz closed his eyes, his desire too fierce to watch all of it. “Because I can’t feel you. Because I don’t want to remember how you feel.”
“Fuck you,” Antoine breathed out, and thrust harder.
“I already can’t forget your fucking mouth, your tongue, the way your fingernails felt ripping at my skin.” He had some range of motion, and he helped the slide, but it wasn’t necessary. Antoine was fucking his fist with abandon. “I don’t think I’d survive remembering this.”
“Fuck, fuck, you’re such a…why do you have to…oh god,” Antoine gasped. His entire body shuddered, and Fitz opened his eyes just in time to see him spill ropes over Fitz’s skin.
He couldn’t feel that either, but he didn’t need to. He could see it, he could smell it. If he just lifted his hand to his lips, he’d be able to taste it. He hesitated, then wiped it on the duvet instead. “You need sleep.”
“Just like that?” Antoine asked.
Fitz flinched at those words, then rose, but he turned and looked down at him. What he wanted was to crawl into bed with him, push his hair back from his face, and kiss him. “Do you want it to be more?”
He saw the war in Antoine’s eyes, saw what it cost him not to answer.
“Take care, Antoine,” Fitz said.
He was almost to the door when he heard a voice from beyond the doorway. “I was lying. I like the way you say my name.”
Fitz closed his eyes, but he bit his tongue, and refused to give in.
Chapter Twelve
Antoine was grateful for the fire for one single reason—he had an excuse if he wanted to hole up in his room for two days and postpone any meetings so he could recover. In reality, his body felt fine. He woke up with twinging lungs and his ribs aching fiercely, but he was no worse for the wear. He ordered room service for breakfast instead of picking over the buffet, though, and laid in bed after his coffee, staring at the slow turn of the ceiling fan and trying not to think about how Fitz’s hand felt on his dick.
Not that it was possible. His hand was stiff and the skin hard and thick, and his fingers had no give. And it was colder than he liked, and yet somehow the best hand-job he’d ever experienced. Fitz had done almost the entire thing with his eyes shut, only looking down as Antoine spilled all over his knuckles.
Not having eye contact helped, but he could hear the echo of Fitz’s words in his head and they gutted him. “I don’t want to remember how it feels.”
Antoine was no stranger to rejection. He was turned away more often than he scored when he was looking to hook up, but somehow, this hurt so much worse. When Fitz left, he turned over on his side and stared at the wall until sleep claimed him, but he didn’t feel better in the morning
The coffee churned in his stomach, so he stood up and walked out onto the back patio. The sun was out, but the air was thick with the humidity of an impending storm. The temperate morning promised a gentle afternoon, but Antoine welcomed any excuse to stay behind the walls of his hotel room and not risk seeing the other man.
It wasn’t like Antoine hadn’t done this before. He’d fallen for people who didn’t want to want him, but did anyway, and then resented him for it. He’d been in several relationships, some spanning years, some just weeks. He’d even said “I love you” more times than he wanted to count, but thinking back and comparing them to the way Fitz made him so furious and so wanting, none of his past felt real.
He wished his brother was coming up soon. Hell, he could probably text him and ask if he could figure out a day trip, but he knew Marcel didn’t want to be an emotional cushion. He had his own life—a good one—and it was unfair of Antoine’s problems to taint that.
If he was going to isolate himself, Antoine figured he could get some work done, so he grabbed his laptop and worked outside on the last of his marketing plans for the town. Rene had already approved what he wanted to adjust so far, and the beta site was looking good so far. His company’s design team were at least giving their worth for the salary they were paid, and Antoine only hoped it would keep Cherry Creek on its feet.
He was pulled from his thoughts when his phone began to buzz, and he was startled to find Gwen’s name on the screen. She was Fitz’s sister, but she didn’t seem the kind of person to meddle in his affairs, so he answered.
“Gwen, how are you?”
“Not bad. Heard about your harrowing escape from the kitchen fire,” she said with a laugh in her voice.
Antoine groaned and leaned back in the lounge chair. “Don’t tell me it made the front page of the paper.”
“It did, actually, but you were listed as victim number three. I only know it was you because Fitz made a big fucking deal this morning on the phone about keeping your name off the record.”
Antoine’s eyes widened. “He’s that ashamed.”
Gwen laughed. “Sweetheart, I don’t think shame is what was motivating him. Anyway, I just wanted to check in.”
He was startled by the genuine honesty in her voice. She wasn’t calling because she wanted something, or she was hoping for gossip. She wasn’t calling to mock him. She was genuinely concerned. “Uh. I’m fine?”
“Are you?” she pressed.
Antoine let out a tiny sigh and adjusted his position to take some of the pressure off his ribs. “Well, ever
ything hurts. Feels like I got hit by a car, almost choked to death on a cherry, and then trapped in a kitchen that was on fire.” He stopped when she laughed. “But really, I’ve had worse.”
“That’s hard to imagine, babe.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Trust me, my brother and I were…reckless kids.”
“You?” she asked him. Before he could offer evidence, she cleared her throat. “Do you want to go on a drive with me? I need to check out some properties over by the big lake near the guys’ ranch.” There was tension in her voice now, and Antoine was intrigued.
“Sure? I’m not up for a big hike or anything, but if you really want company…”
“I do. And I could use your expertise. I’m…I got a call today. I’ll explain it when I get there.”
Antoine had planned on wallowing, but maybe he needed this. “Give me time to shower, yeah?”
“Go ahead. I’m dropping Owen off at the Gazette for his shift, then I can swing by the Lodge.”
When the call ended, Antoine took his time scrubbing himself as much as he could, though as he dried off, he could still smell the fire from the night before in his hair. He instantly thought of Fitz, and how long the scent of his trauma must have clung to him along with the pain. It was a wonder he did what he did, but it also made sense.
Marcel was the sort of man who didn’t want to move mountains and set records, but he was also a stubborn man and any time life kicked him in the ass, he kicked back twice as hard. It was why he was living across the country, not speaking to his parents, and engaged to a man he fell in love with on the night they first met. Fitz made sense to him—at least the parts of him that didn’t hate Antoine made sense. The rest well, he supposed he’d either have the opportunity to find out, or he wouldn’t.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted, and he was too fragile and tired right then to decide.
He felt better dressed in clean clothes, and he grabbed his keys and phone before heading out. Coming around the corner toward the lobby, he came to a skidding halt and found himself face to face with Charlie Motel. He’d met with him very briefly after his check-in, but the Lodge was the very last on his list for revamping because although their website wasn’t great, their operations brought in the most revenue for the town and they didn’t need much.
Charlie was sweet though. He was soft-spoken and almost shy, though he was levelheaded with any suggestion Antoine made. He looked soft and sweet in rumpled pajama pants, his fingers curled around the leash attached to his dog which was busy smelling Antoine’s shoes.
“I was just coming by your room,” Charlie confessed. Antoine’s brows lifted and he gave Charlie’s ensemble a look, making him blush. “Eddie and I went to bed early and James texted me about the fire. I was worried.”
Antoine, yet again, felt something in his gut he couldn’t quite name. Charlie’s eyes were large, and kind, and honest. “I’m fine. Just a little smoke inhalation. A couple of the cooks were taken to the hospital though.”
Charlie winced. “Yeah, I heard. Do you need anything? I mean, after the car and…”
Antoine waved his hand to stop him. He really didn’t need to relive his abject public humiliation over and over, even if it was out of concern for his well-being. “I’m good, I promise. I’m helping out Gwen today with some properties by the big lake.”
Charlie’s smile was surprised, but he looked genuinely happy. “Oh. That’s great. Is she expanding?”
“She didn’t say yet, but she wanted to talk about it when we got there.” He stopped abruptly when he realized that this wasn’t part of his job. Maybe it could be, if the property was going to be incorporated into something that would benefit the town, but any sale would take place and finalize long after he was gone. She was…she was asking him as a friend, and that’s why Charlie was asking.
Not to see if it would help them financially, just to ask. Simple as that.
His gut twisted hard and he felt almost sick. He was tempted to run, to call Gwen and cancel, but he stopped himself. He needed to quit being so damn afraid of this thing he so desperately wanted. “I don’t want to be late,” he finally said, and Charlie nodded.
“No worries. I’ll see you later, right?”
Antoine didn’t want to make any promises. He didn’t want these people to like him this much. He had just wanted to get along so they could work together without a fight. He hadn’t meant for this to happen. Fuck. Running fingers through his hair, he shoved his sunglasses on his face and made his way to the roundabout where Gwen was waiting.
She had a station wagon, a little old and rough on the inside, but the engine was quiet and the seats were soft. She gave him a smile as he climbed in, and he could hear gentle classical music playing on the backseat speakers.
“You get any sleep?” she asked as she pulled away from the main road to the Lodge.
Antoine shrugged. “Not as much as I would have liked, but I don’t feel too bad.”
“I appreciate you coming out with me, though. I’m going to swing by Levi’s and grab some lunch for us to take out there. We can picnic.”
Antoine again felt the panic and wanted to tell her no, but his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth as she navigated the streets and ended up near the Mayor’s office where the Rebel Rugelach was parked. He didn’t get out after her, and she didn’t seem to expect it as she jogged to the window and passed over a wad of cash before taking two bags in hand.
Levi leaned his head out and waved at Antoine who returned the gesture automatically before dropping his hand to his lap. Double fuck. Gwen got back in the car and it smelled amazing—like fried food and chicken.
“He’s been getting into lunches, trying out new stuff. He bought a fryer so he’s giving out falafel with all the wrap orders. I hope you don’t mind,” she said.
Antoine waved her off. “I travel way too much to be picky.” And it was true. He had favorite foods, but he subsisted off diner burgers and fried chicken more than he didn’t. And Levi’s baked goods were to die for, so he could only imagine what else he was capable of.
Antoine was grateful for the comfortable silence that settled on the drive. It was only twenty minutes from the town center, but it felt shorter as he found himself captivated by the tall reaching forest, and the mountains that peaked over the tops of the trees. He knew the farm by proxy of his accident from the goat, but he hadn’t been paying much attention as he rounded the corner that last time.
Now, Gwen took the little dirt road that had a sign for the ranch, and one for the big lake, and she veered left. “If you want to stop and say hi to the guys later, we totally can.”
He made a non-committal noise. He didn’t want to reject more people, but he didn’t want to encourage them either. He kept to his silence as they took a poorly maintained road, and eventually she pulled into a makeshift parking lot with only one other car.
“That would be Ronan,” she said, nodding at the ATV parked under the larger tree. “He’s probably wandering around here.”
“He’s the ranger out here, right?” Antoine asked as he unfastened his belt and stepped into a small pocket of sun peeking through the trees.
“He is. He was practically my brother growing up until the fire happened,” Gwen told him. “Things got weird with the boys after that.”
Antoine felt a rush of sympathy for everyone who had suffered. “That must have been tough.”
“The first few weeks were the worst. Fitz was in and out of consciousness and they had trouble keeping the infections at bay. At one point they told my parents that he would probably lose his arm and my mom just…lost her shit.”
Antoine winced. “Mom guilt is tough.”
At that, she laughed and beckoned him along down a partially tamped down trail. “That’s something I know intimately. I kind of smother Owen sometimes, I think. Fitz had to talk me into letting him join the Scouts, and that boy has had more fire safety training than anyone I know.”
Antoine laughed. “Not a surprise.”
She grinned at him, and she looked very pretty there in the wisps of yellow glow. It was a wonder she wasn’t with anyone, but he had a feeling it was more her choice than rejection. “Ronan was always kind of their leader. He felt responsible even though it was Fitz’s dumbass idea to zip the t-shirt into the tent flap.”
Antoine lifted his brows. “He did what, now?”
“Ronan was trying to get his rocks off with some girl down by the lake, so Fitz left the lantern on for him. He tried to cover it by making a little tent with his t-shirt zipped up in the zipper so they wouldn’t get caught being awake after curfew. The cloth jammed it, so when his sleeping bag caught fire, they couldn’t get it open.”
“Jesus,” Antoine breathed out.
Gwen nodded, looking miserable for a second, then led the way toward a smaller path, and it was only a few feet long before it opened up to the bank of a massive lake that stretched for miles. There were a few For Sale signs staked into the ground at various intervals, and he wondered what the plan was for them.
“Ronan saved his life. Everyone else just panicked, but he rushed back and took his knife and cut the tent open. Fitz thinks he owes Ronan his life, and Ronan thinks Fitz owes him hell on earth because he blames himself for taking off.”
“That’s,” Antoine said, but he didn’t want to unfairly judge. His parents felt different measures of guilt for Marcel’s blindness, even though Marcel had never given a shit, and Antoine tried to blame himself when Marcel’s life didn’t work out the way he wanted it to. It was a tough lesson to learn, and a difficult habit to break.
“Ronan and Fitz are better now, sort of, but that changed them. Parker went on to be a doctor, Fitz decided to spit in the face of the universe and joined the fire department. Ronan went on to become the mountain man hermit until Parker dragged him into both society and marriage—kicking and screaming.”
She stopped, and Antoine wanted to press her for more, but he reminded himself that these were not his people.