Straight From the Heart

by Sam Burns

  He was still looking at the space between the key and the lock when he heard Alex’s voice behind him. “Liam?”

  His head whipped up so fast that he lost his balance and had to hold himself up with a hand on the door frame. It was the left hand, the one attached to the arm with the bullet wound, so he winced and immediately dropped it again. His body hit the door with some force, and he had to grit his teeth against the pain.

  Alex’s expression was wide-eyed and a little bit frightened. He reached out, laying a steadying hand on Liam’s right arm. “Have you been drinking?”

  “No!” the answer came out before he thought about it, and with more vehemence than was probably necessary. “I mean, no, I haven’t been drinking. I don’t do that. I just—” He stopped in the middle of the sentence, realizing that he didn’t have anywhere good to go with it. What was he going to say? It’s just a little bullet wound, no big deal?

  Alex didn’t look convinced. He took the keys from Liam and opened the door. He wrapped an arm around him, and slowly walked him over to the couch. When Liam sat, Alex turned to kneel in front of him, looking up into his eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his eyes filled with concern. “You look sick.” He pulled his hand off Liam’s and went to caress his face with it, which was when both of them realized that it was covered in blood.

  Dammit. He thought he’d stopped the bleeding. Walking must have started it up again. “Don’t freak out,” he said. Well, he probably begged, but he wasn’t going to quibble over semantics. “I swear that I’m okay. It’s my blood, but I’m fine.”

  Alex’s eyes were round and full of fear. “It’s your blood? Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Better than if it were someone else’s blood,” Liam explained. “You wouldn’t want me to come home covered in someone else’s blood, would you?”

  Alex seemed to think about that for a moment, then he shook his head. “I don’t want you covered in anyone’s blood, Liam. This is awful. Take your coat off, let’s see how bad it is.”

  Liam complied, albeit somewhat slowly, and tried not to wince too much when the leather scraped against his arm. His impromptu bandage beneath was soaked through, and still bright red with fresh blood. Maybe he’d lost more than he thought.

  He stared at it dumbly while Alex jumped up and rushed off. He worried for a second that Alex was going to call an ambulance, but he came back a moment later with the first-aid kit from under the bathroom sink.

  “I’m assuming there’s a reason you didn’t go straight to the hospital?” Alex asked, sounding strangely relaxed for a guy who was taking a blood-soaked bandage off his boyfriend’s arm. “Because this is definitely more their sort of thing than mine.”

  Liam chuckled, and Alex followed suit, though his was a little more hysterical. “The hospital has to report gunshot wounds to the authorities,” Liam explained unthinkingly.

  Alex froze. He stared at the jagged tear in Liam’s skin, then looked up at his face. “A gunshot? Someone shot you?”

  “Well,” Liam said, and then trailed off. He wanted to walk it back somehow, but he couldn’t. “Yeah. But it’s tiny.” He motioned toward the torn skin as though that answered everything.

  “Liam,” Alex said, using a tone one might use on a grade-schooler. “It’s a gunshot. Someone shot a gun at you. You don’t think we should get you medical attention?”

  Liam shook his head. “Like I said, the hospital would have to report it. They’d bring in cops.”

  “And that would be bad,” Alex added dubiously. He shook his head and started cleaning the mess on Liam’s arm. “Just so you know, I’m only accepting this insanity because I’m sure this isn’t going to kill you. If it were literally any worse, I’d be calling 911 no matter what you said.”

  Smiling, Liam leaned in and placed a shaky kiss on Alex’s cheek. “That’s why you’re the best.”

  “Yeah? Well you’re a jerk, going out and getting shot at, and then putting me through this.” Alex glared at him, but there was no heat in his eyes. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask what happened?”

  “Nope,” Liam agreed.

  Alex’s voice was much softer when he spoke again. “Should we talk about the drinking thing?”

  “What drinking thing?” Liam asked. “I don’t drink. I didn’t.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” Alex told him.

  “Oh.” Liam slid his hand into his pocket like he did a hundred times a day, pulling it back out, chip in hand. It was bronze metal, with a large raised “III” on both sides. He held it up for Alex to examine.

  “Three years?” Alex asked.

  Liam nodded. “Almost four. Four on, and four off. I should have told you before.”

  Alex rolled his eyes. “You’re sitting here bleeding all over everything, and you think the thing you really should have told me is that you’re an alcoholic?”

  “I’m not bleeding anymore,” Liam pointed out, nodding to his arm. “And the drinking, that’s always gonna be there.”

  “The people shooting at you aren’t?” Alex asked, watching his own hands bandage the wound instead of looking Liam in the eye. He didn’t look like he was sure he wanted the answer.

  “No,” Liam said, putting his hand over Alex’s to stop the movement. He gave it a squeeze, almost unintentionally, as though trying to hold them together. “I swear, Alex, it’s not always gonna be like this. Even if I have to—it doesn’t matter. I won’t let it always be like this.”

  “Are we gonna steal all of Brendan Quinn’s money and run off to the Caribbean?” Alex asked. There was no trace of a joke in his golden-brown eyes. Mostly, he looked sad.

  Alex glanced away after a moment, taking a bandage from the first-aid kit and starting to dress the wound. He didn’t seem to expect an answer. Liam wondered just how much he knew. Too much, that was certain. A tiny shiver of concern flitted through the back of his mind, pointing out that he’d never told Alex he worked for the elder Quinn. But Alex was smart and it wasn’t hard to figure out, so Liam squashed it. Some small part of him wanted to jump in with an explanation or justification, but he didn’t have one he could give.

  “It’s nothing to do with Quinn,” he found himself saying. “Believe it or not, Quinn’s a minor player in this mess.”

  Alex looked confused. He continued wrapping the bandage around Liam’s arm, but looked up at him. “I thought he was the boss?”

  That was impossible to deny. Liam thought it was mostly the truth, even. “So does he,” he said.

  “So we’re not planning on stealing money and disappearing off into the sunset?” Alex’s voice was neutral, as though even he wasn’t sure which answer he preferred.

  “No. No stealing,” Liam reiterated. “I wouldn’t mind disappearing off into the sunset, but I don’t think Fred leaves you that choice.”

  Alex shook his head. “True.”

  They sat in silence while Alex finished his work, then took the first-aid kit back into the bathroom. Liam took his shirt, jacket, and the gauze Alex had used to clean him up, and dropped it into the trash can in the kitchen. It was a pity. He’d liked that jacket. Not much to be done for a bullet hole, though.

  He returned to find Alex leaning against the wall between the bathroom and the living room. “So, drinking?” Alex asked.

  Liam shrugged. “Poor life choices. Maybe a little bit of genetics. Realized I was becoming a man I promised myself I’d never be.”

  Alex nodded. “I wish I could say I understand, but I’ve never known someone with a drinking problem. At least, none I was aware of. Is there anything I can do?”

  Liam’s breath caught. Of all the possible responses to finding out about his drinking, that one had never crossed his mind. “Nothing you’re not already doing,” he said. “And I don’t want to put any responsibility for my actions on you. But thank you. I’ve never had anyone outside AA or my sister offer to help before.”

  Alex pushed off the wall and walked ov
er to him. His eyes were soft and concerned. “I may not know a lot about being someone’s boyfriend yet, but I definitely know that not caring enough to help you fight your demons would make me a lousy one. Even if there isn’t anything I can actually do, I’ll always try to be here.”

  “Even when I get shot and can’t explain it?” Liam asked.

  Alex slipped his hand into Liam’s right front pocket, his fingers wrapping around the chip there. He looked back up into Liam’s eyes and sighed. “I think so.”

  Liam wasn’t sure if his heart was full, or breaking.

  11

  Alex Uses His Degree

  A gunshot wound.

  Alex’s brain kept repeating it over and over.

  A gunshot wound. A tiny gunshot wound. Hospitals have to report gunshot wounds to the authorities.

  The way Liam had brushed it off, acting like getting shot at was no big deal, was beyond worrying. Alex hadn’t been concerned that the injury was going to kill Liam. He had been worried that people had been shooting at his boyfriend to begin with.

  A gunshot wound. The words had lost all meaning in his head, just a collection of letters spelling out the dread that one day Alex would hear something about shots fired on the news, and he would just never hear from Liam again. It could have happened that morning. Alex didn’t want to have to start watching the news to make sure he heard stories like that.

  He had been high from the conversation with his mother, and decided that he should go talk to Liam too. He’d thought that it would clear the air like some ridiculous magic rom-com, and everything would be fine.

  Jake was always calling him an optimist like it was an insult. Maybe Jake was right.

  After he got Liam to bed, Alex spent the night pacing the small living room of the apartment. He didn’t usually let himself stew over things he couldn’t control, but he felt justified this time. People had been shooting at Liam. He’d been injured.

  A gunshot wound!

  He paced, made coffee, watched the television on mute, and then made more coffee. He wasn’t sure his brain was working the right way anymore, but he had too much to think about to be able to go to bed.

  On the day of their first date, Liam had warned him that everything was not as it seemed. Alex had been the one to jump straight in anyway, heart first.

  Liam had been clear, likening his secret to being an axe murderer. Only Liam wasn’t the one who was doing the killing, it was men with guns trying to kill Liam.

  Or maybe Liam was the one doing the killing. A man didn’t walk away from being shot at if he didn’t stop the person with the gun. The easiest way to stop a man with a gun, of course, was having a gun of one’s own.

  Four years of philosophy courses had prepared Alex all too well for the internal debate that followed.

  Liam was probably killing people. Liam worked for a criminal. Liam, therefore, was one of the bad guys, if such a thing were acknowledged to exist.

  So if Alex stayed with Liam, supported Liam, helped with his gunshot wounds, did that make Alex culpable for the things Liam did? Did it make Alex one of the bad guys too?

  He found that when it was relevant to his life, the philosophical debate was much less enjoyable.

  After hours of speculation, he realized that it hadn’t even been the right debate. The real question wasn’t whether supporting his villainous boyfriend made him bad. It was whether he cared enough about the answer. If the answer was yes, would he walk away?

  He already knew both answers, but he kept pacing.

  When Liam came into the room just before dawn, wrapped in his blanket, Alex was staring blankly at some chirpy morning show host talking to a guest who was probably famous for something. The television was still muted, so he had no idea who the guy was.

  “Alex?” Liam asked.

  “Mmm?”

  “Did you sleep at all?” Trailing the blanket after him, Liam walked over and sat down on the couch. “I hope you didn’t stay up all night because of—” he cut off and gestured to his arm.

  “Your gunshot wound?” Alex asked. He’d run the phrase through his head so many times that he wasn’t sure he was saying it right anymore.

  He must have at least come close, because Liam winced.

  They sat there in silence for a moment watching the morning show host gesticulating wildly, before Alex gathered his thoughts. “I need more,” he said, resolutely.

  Liam flinched away like he’d been struck.

  Alex played the words back in his head. “No, not like that.” He sighed. “I’m doing this wrong. What I’m saying is that I can’t be in half a relationship. I get that I’m asking for a lot, but I need you to either be with me or not.”

  “I thought I was with you,” Liam said, sounding confused.

  “I mean more, Liam. If something happens to you, I want someone to come tell me. I don’t want you to just never show up again.” He broke off and turned to kneel on the ground in front of his boyfriend. “I need to meet your family, to have something tangible, to prove to myself that you’re here, and you’re staying, and when I wake up in the morning, I’ll know that even if I don’t know who might be damned well shooting at you today, I’ll hear about it if it happens.”

  His voice increased in volume and speed as he went on, and by the end, he was almost shouting. He had never shouted before in his life, never felt so strongly about anything that he’d needed to. He was pretty sure he sounded like someone’s crazy ex, and that in a matter of minutes, that’s exactly what he’d be to Liam.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “To do what?” Liam asked. “Tell me how you felt?”

  Alex shrugged, unwilling to open his mouth again for fear of what would come out.

  “You have a right to feel left out, Alex. I’ve been leaving you out.” Liam looked pained by his own admission, but he continued. “And what happened yesterday wasn’t fair to you. I wasn’t expecting it, but I guess most people who get shot on the job don’t.”

  Liam’s arms snaked around Alex’s back and his cheek pressed into Alex’s hair. While part of him wanted to pull away and demand answers, Alex fell into the embrace. He hoped that it meant Liam was staying, not trying to find the words to send him on his way.

  When Liam’s voice came again, it was so soft that it was hard to hear, despite his mouth being mere inches from Alex’s ear. “I have a lunch meeting today with someone I trust. I’ll tell her about us, that if something happens to me, she should tell you everything she can.”

  It was more than Alex had imagined, and far less than he wanted. “Does she have a name?”

  Liam sighed. “Casey. Casey Forsythe.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll give you her number. If you can’t find me, you’ll call her and talk to her. Is that okay? I know it’s barely a start, but it’s all I can do right now. It’s more than I should do. Everything I tell you puts you in danger, Alex, and that’s not what I want to do.”

  “And your family?” Alex asked. It made him feel petulant, but he still wanted more.

  “As soon as I can introduce you, I will. There are just a few of them, but they’ll like you.” Liam sounded amused at the idea.

  The words were more soothing than Liam probably thought they were, maybe more than they should have been. They meant everything to Alex. They meant that Liam wanted a future; that he really thought it was a possibility.

  “Am I going to be mad at you?” he asked. “When you tell me the truth?”

  Liam’s chest started shaking, and it took a moment for Alex to realize what it was. Liam was laughing. “So mad,” he answered when he finally managed to get his laughter under control. “Furious. But if you can live with the rest of this? I think you might forgive me.”

  Somehow, at least in the short term, it was enough.

  12

  Liam Makes Arrangements

  Fear and elation warred in Liam’s stomach. Telling Alex about Casey had been a terrible idea. Tel
ling Casey what he’d done was going to be excruciating, especially since he hadn’t called her the night before. Nevertheless, if the end result was Alex staying, Liam couldn’t believe he’d made a mistake.

  “Want to shower?” he asked, a little smirk on his face.

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Is that your subtle way of asking for sex? I don’t think you having sex in the shower while you’re injured is a good idea. You might tear—” Alex paused mid-sentence and looked at the bandage on Liam’s arm. “It. You might tear it back open.”

  Liam pouted. “It’s not like I’ve never been shot before.” He stopped and reconsidered those words. “You know what, you’re right. I’m a fragile thing and I need you to take care of me. Never been shot in my life.”

  “Another lie? Are you sure that’s where you want to go with this?” Alex asked, failing to hold back the beginnings of a smile. Liam’s shoulders slumped in relief at the expression.

  “I swear, I don’t make a habit of it,” Liam told him. “The lying or the getting shot. This is the first time since I got back stateside. The last if I have a say in it.” There was no way Alex could think that was a lie, unless he thought Liam was completely out of his mind.

  Instead of answering, Alex stood and held his hand out to Liam.

  Liam waggled his eyebrows as he took the offered hand and stood. “So that’s a yes to the shower sex?”

  “No, it’s not a yes to shower sex,” Alex chided. He stepped into Liam’s space and leaned up to give him a peck on the lips. “You’re injured. I’m not having sex with you unless you find a way that doesn’t involve the possibility of you hurting yourself.”

  “What if it’s just a small possibility?” What sense he had was telling him to let it go, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to be closer to Alex, as close as he could get, and sex was the best way he knew to get there.