by E M Lindsey
“I just don’t see the problem.” Parker twisted in his chair, knocking his arm off the wood railing where it was resting. He rarely bothered with his prosthetic once he was at home, and more times than Fitz wanted to count, he’d tripped over the stray limb on his way to the bathroom. Parker kicked it to the side, gingerly now that he wore an expensive, high-tech prosthetic rather than the one he’d had back high school which was plastic with two hooks. “Antoine is a nice guy.”
Fitz groaned. “Is he, though?”
“I mean, he actually is.” Parker leaned back to sip his beer and he gave Fitz a hard stare. “You may be the only person in the entire town who doesn’t think so.”
“He’s pretentious.”
Ronan snorted. “So is Rene. And Wilder. And Levi is a fussy little asshole about everything, but you like him.”
Fitz pursed his lips. “That’s not the same. Antoine isn’t…he’s not from here.”
“Neither are the Motels,” Parker reminded him. “You didn’t judge them the same way. And don’t,” Parker went on when Fitz opened his mouth to argue more, “say it was because he almost hit Robert. That little fucker has almost killed many of us. I treated two people last week for goat bites—and one of them was Spencer.”
Fitz snorted a laugh, shaking his head before he ran his hand down his face. His palm was damp and cold from condensation on his beer, and wholly unpleasant, but it was at least distracting from his thoughts. “I don’t want to like him,” he finally confessed.
Ronan’s brow furrowed. “Why? He’s actually helping. And it’s not like he’s sticking around after.”
It must have showed on his face, because Parker softened. “Oh. I see.”
Fitz shook his head. “Please don’t.”
“You fucked him, didn’t you? And now you’re falling for him. This is Chance all over again.”
Fitz stood and wanted to storm away, but he loved his friends too much for that so instead he grabbed the railing hard, until he heard the wood creak and groan. “This is nothing like Chance. We didn’t get that far. And I barely know him.”
“But something happened,” Parker said.
Fitz nodded and couldn’t bring himself to turn around and look at either of them. “I can’t stand him. I can’t stand him because I fucking want him to like me, but he doesn’t. Dmitri hit him with his damn car, and he got more of a pass than I did for one thoughtless comment.” And maybe it wasn’t just one thoughtless comment, but he wanted absolution, and Antoine wouldn’t grant it.
Parker made a small noise, and suddenly he was at Fitz’s side. Ronan wasn’t, but that was hardly a surprise these days now that getting up from a seat was more of a strain on his legs. Parker pressed against Fitz gently with his hip, his stump brushing against Fitz’s shoulder. “He probably doesn’t hate you.”
“It sure as hell didn’t seem like it at the Market,” Ronan said. “The way you two argued—that was not hate.”
“Well, it sure as shit wasn’t love,” Fitz huffed, but he couldn’t entirely argue Ronan’s point. It didn’t feel like hate anymore. Antoine had shared with him—not just trading barbs, but he shared a piece of himself Fitz didn’t think he went around advertising. Most people didn’t want to admit those sorts of weaknesses, and it made Fitz want to hold him close and learn every inch of him. Intimately.
“Are you sure this isn’t just rebounding?” Parker asked after a minute.
Fitz rolled his eyes and let out a heavy breath. “I’m sure. I was upset when Chance left, but it didn’t last. I’m lonely, and Chance has been gone for a while, but I don’t want just anyone.”
“You want him,” Ronan finished quietly.
Fitz bowed his head. “It’s stupid, I know. I say I don’t hate myself, but sometimes I wonder.”
Parker laid his hand on Fitz’ arm, the warmth of his fingers comforting and soft. He leaned into his friend and for a while, the three of them just existed there together in that moment. “What do you know about him?” Parker asked.
“Not much,” he confessed. “He has an identical twin. He showed me a picture.”
Parker laughed softly. “Jesus. There’s two of them?”
“He says his twin is nicer,” Fitz offered.
“I can’t imagine a version of Antoine that’s nicer,” Ronan said. He finally stood up with a struggling grunt, his cane thumping against the wood as he came to stand on Fitz’s other side, a foot away. He laid his hand on the banister, his small wedding band clicking against the wood. “Are you going to see him again?”
“He’s here for another few weeks. I can’t avoid him,” Fitz answered. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” He stared at the ground below. There was a trail of ants carrying seeds and crumbs back to their hill—big, fat things that hurt like the devil when they bit you. “Anyway, I don’t want to avoid him, I just don’t know how to make it work. And like you said, he’s leaving.”
“Better to have loved and lost,” Parker started.
“I will punch you in the face,” Fitz warned.
Parker grinned widely at him and nudged him with his stump again. “Maybe you just need to fuck him out of your system. Maybe it won’t be that good, and then you’ll get over it.”
Fitz knew that was a lie—that trying to deny the connection between them for casual sex was a disaster waiting to happen. But at the same time, maybe he would regret not having him while he could.
“Or,” Ronan said, so softly, Fitz barely heard him, “you could talk to him first. You don’t have be like Parker and solve all of your problems by shoving your dick into it.”
“Hey, it worked for me plenty of times,” Parker grumbled. “That’s how I got Ronan to marry me.”
“That is not how you got me to even look at you twice,” Ronan argued.
“If I recall,” Parker said with a sniff, “you showed up at my door and pinned my ass to the bed to…”
Fitz held up a hand. “We have an agreement about not subjecting me to your sexcapade shit.”
With a laugh, Parker switched sides, wedging between Ronan and Fitz, and he slid his arm around Fitz’s waist and held him tight. “It’ll be alright. You know that, don’t you? Whatever happens?”
Fitz stared down at his hands and regretted the decision he’d made not to let himself feel Antoine’s cock. He regretted his choice to walk away instead of giving in to what he really wanted. “I’ll talk to him.”
It was a concession—a small one, but his mind was made up.
In spite of Antoine’s luck—or lack of it— Fitz didn’t really believe the guy was cursed. Of course, he was starting to wonder about that when he got a call while he was in the SUV. All he knew was that there was a reported car fire, and he was the closest to the scene. He tore through the winding road toward Collin’s farm, coming to a halt when he saw a familiar rental with white clouds billowing out from under the hood, and he swore silently to himself.
He recognized it for what it was immediately—not a fire at all, but probably a busted hose or a cracked radiator. It wasn’t smoke, but he knew most people couldn’t tell the difference, especially if they were scared. Fitz threw his portable emergency light onto the roof of the car, flipping the switch, and he called off the truck and ambulance as he rushed toward the edge of the embankment and found Antoine standing several feet away holding himself tight around the middle.
When his eyes caught Fitz, he let out an audible groan and turned his face up to the sky. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Fitz fought back a grin as he carefully made his way down the slope, and he approached the other man with some caution. “You had to know there was a chance I’d be first on scene.”
“Shouldn’t you be up there putting out the damn car fire?” Antoine snapped.
Now that Fitz was paying attention, he could hear the fear under the anger, and he reached out for the other man, pulling him close, protocol and regulations be damned. “I would gladly put out a car fire if there was one. But that’s
steam. I think your radiator is busted.”
Antoine’s face drained of all color and he swayed, but Fitz kept a tight grip on him. “Oh, what the fuck. What the actual fucking fuck?” His chin began to tremble, and Fitz instantly recognized his adrenaline crash, so he pulled Antoine into an embrace and breathed out a sigh when the shorter man buried his face in Fitz’s chest.
“A lot of people make that mistake. I’m glad it’s not a fire, okay?”
Antoine nodded. “You might be right about that pissed off god theory.”
Fitz chuckled and fought the urge to kiss his hair. “Sounds like it. Why don’t we get up to the road and I’ll call Max to tow this thing?”
After a beat, Antoine pulled back and looked mildly embarrassed. He detached from Fitz’s arm and rubbed the back of his neck. “Only if it means he gets paid. I want that rental company to fucking suffer.”
With another laugh, Fitz shook his head and offered his hand out to help Antoine back up the embankment. It was a short climb, but Antoine was limber enough, and when they got up, Fitz could see the steam had slowed to a gentle trickle. “This is probably going to be a quick repair.”
“I think at this point I’d rather walk back to the fucking airport.”
Fitz felt a twinge in his chest, but he shoved it away. “There are plenty of people in town who’d be happy to help, and right now, I can give you a ride back to the Lodge. Okay?”
Antoine blew out another breath and nodded. “Yeah. Um. Thanks, Smokey.” This time, the name didn’t sound cruel. There was a hint of a smile on his face, and Fitz wanted to cup his cheek and run his thumb over Antoine’s lips.
“Go hop in the SUV and I’ll get Max on it.” He waited until he heard the passenger door open and shut, then Fitz crossed to the back and dragged out a couple of emergency flares, setting them up to alert any cars coming in or out.
The rental smelled hot and sharp like radiator fluid, and he popped the hood before hitting Max’s number and holding the phone to his ear. It rang as he glanced down at the mess inside the engine and he wondered how it even made it off the lot. The last car hadn’t been in the best shape, but this was even worse. The battery was corroded, and everything was a filthy mess.
“Fitz, don’t tell me…”
“Antoine’s rental just had the radiator blow, I think. He’s like two hundred feet from your driveway.”
“Jesus Christ, is he okay?” Max asked in a gruff tone.
Fitz laughed. “Well, he’s been better. He said you can take care if this if means you get paid, otherwise he wants to impose on the rental company.”
“Trust me, I have no problem charging a nice fee,” Max assured him. “Leave the keys on the seat if you want to take off. I’ll have the truck out in five.”
“Thanks, man.” Fitz hung up, then sent a text to Birdie letting him know the situation was taken care of before he opened the driver’s door to the SUV and leaned in to find Antoine with his head pressed to the window. “You good?”
Antoine didn’t open his eyes when he nodded. “Fine.”
“Max said to leave the keys and he’ll take care of it. Anything in there you need?”
Antoine shook his head and still didn’t look over. “I’m good. If you could just drive me to the nearest cliff, though…”
Sliding into the seat, Fitz closed the door. His hand hovered between them, then he gently cupped Antoine’s cheek and rubbed it with his thumb until his eyes opened. “It’s not the end of the world.”
Antoine let out a shuddering breath, then licked his lips. “Can you um…can you not be too nice to me right now? I feel like shit’s falling apart, and I think you being gentle is a sign of the apocalypse.”
Fitz grinned, and though it pained him to do it, he pulled his hand back. “No problem, Hollywood. You want to grab a beer?”
Antoine’s brows lifted. “Can you drink on the job?”
“Nope.” He grinned at him and winked. “I can drink the moment I clock out. I’m going to drop you off at the Pub. Start a tab on your company credit card, and I’ll head back over as soon as I’m done with paperwork.”
Antoine snorted a laugh, but it didn’t look like he was going to say no. “Thanks for the rescue.”
“Any time,” Fitz said, “and I feel like I can back that shit up with hard evidence.” Antoine’s laugh at that buoyed him and he started the car, pulling onto the road and heading back for town.
As promised, he dropped Antoine off in front of the Tavern before heading back to the station, and Birdie was waiting for him in his office when he got inside. “Max called.”
Fitz bit the inside of his cheek. “Okay.”
“He said your favorite Hollywood snob needed another rescue.”
Fitz slid into his chair and clicked his mouse, waking up his computer to file his report. “Is there something you need, Captain?”
“No, Chief,” Birdie fired back, but to Fitz’s chagrin, he took the seat across from him. “He’s a good guy, right? I mean, I wanted to hate him with you out of solidarity, but he was so fucking nice to me when we were working on the website ideas. You should see what he put together for my shop.”
Fitz sighed, but he ignored Birdie long enough to finish his report. He gave it a once-over just to be obnoxious, then finally hit send and then folded his hands next to his keyboard. “Are you looking for validation or something?”
Birdie shrugged. “It’s obvious you have a crush. Literally everyone can tell. We just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Fitz felt warm and cold all at the same time. He loved his little family—he truly did, but he knew that being hurt now was inevitable. Antoine was going to leave, there was no stopping it. He was taking a risk, and he knew he was going to go for it—to take what he could get, and he knew his heart would be the one suffering at the end.
“I can take care of myself,” Fitz told him.
Birdie gave him a flat look, and Fitz didn’t retaliate. “We know you’ve been saving yourself for someone special…”
“Oh, fuck off,” Fitz growled, and Birdie laughed.
“We just care. We remember how rough it was when Chance left.”
Fitz winced, not because he missed Chance, but because he hated that everyone looked at him like some sad, pathetic loser who couldn’t even keep a fuck-buddy around. “You know I’m fine about him, right? He wasn’t a forever kind of guy. Just like Antoine.”
Birdie gave him a flat look. “We’ve all made the mistake of falling for fly-by-nights, Fitz. You’re not alone in that.”
“It works out sometimes,” Fitz said softly. He was thinking of Charlie, of course, whose husband had showed up at the Lodge one day and then never left. And of Simon, whose online crush stormed into town and breezed out only when he had Simon’s hand in his. He was thinking of Levi who had been guarding his heart for so damn long, and then James had come to Cherry Creek with the intent of staying only a year, then Levi broke down every one of his careful defenses.
But he didn’t think he was going to be that lucky. He had misjudged Antoine—but not entirely. His life was not small town. His life was not here.
“I’m a big boy. And I think I’ve proven that out of all of us, I can survive being burned.”
Birdie winced. “It’s different when it happens on the inside.”
Fitz knew his captain understood more than anyone. Birdie was private about his life, but he had sworn off any and all relationships. He wasn’t a miserable man, though, and Fitz didn’t think having Antoine for only a little while would turn him into someone he wasn’t meant to be.
“Trust me,” he said, and Birdie softened. “I can handle it.”
“Okay.” After a beat, his friend rose and leaned over to clap him on the shoulder. “You have my blessing.”
“Don’t want it, didn’t ask for it,” Fitz said.
“All the same, you got it.” Birdie paused in the doorway, then winked. “I can finish up here if you want to take off.”
&
nbsp; Part of Fitz wanted to say no, just to prove his friend wrong, but he knew damn well Antoine was waiting. And he knew damn well he wasn’t going to make him wait any longer than this.
By the time Fitz got the rest of his paperwork done, clocked out, and changed into his clothes almost two hours had passed. He felt a small wave of anxiety that Antoine got tired of waiting for him, but when he walked into the Pub, he spotted him immediately at the bar chatting with the bartender, Ainsley.
He was telling some story Fitz couldn’t hear over the din of the crowd, but he was animated, waving his hands and laughing. It was nothing like the tense, uptight man Fitz had gotten to know over the past few weeks. And it made even more sense as he watched Rose swap an empty highball glass for a fresh one.
“Oh my god,” Antoine said as he spotted Fitz. “You’re here! You showed up!”
“I did. And you got drunk,” Fitz said with a laugh.
Antoine lunged off his seat at Fitz who caught him in a steady grasp and pushed him back onto the stool. “God, you are huge. You are so…you’re like a tree. You’re…” he leaned in toward the bartender who was wearing an amused grin on her face. “I want to climb him like a tree. Did I tell you that already?”
Ainsley turned her attention to Fitz. “Babe, you might want to walk him home.”
Fitz bit the inside of his cheek as Antoine leaned into his arms and murmured something about needing a hug. “I thought you didn’t want me to be nice to you.”
Antoine tilted his head all the way back until he was looking up at Fitz. “Who said that?”
“You did,” Fitz reminded him with a soft laugh. “Earlier.”
“Earlier me was so stupid. So…so…whoops,” Antoine yelped as he started to fall off his seat, so Fitz righted him and kept a steady arm around his waist. “So stupid.”
“Close out his tab. I’ll have him sign it tomorrow,” Fitz told Ainsley who wasn’t even bothering to hide her laughter. “And don’t think I’m going to forget about you letting him drink this much.”
Ainsley grinned, her eyes wide behind her thick lenses. “Of course you won’t. You can send me a muffin basket for it. I like the apple crumble ones Levi makes.”