Dane spun around. “Fuck you. I needed some air.”
The arch of one brow said Gideon wasn’t buying it. “Of course, because with being outside, there was such a paucity of it.”
Over Gideon’s shoulder Dane saw the figures ranged out along the path he’d taken to the water’s edge. Closest to where he stood with Gideon were Theo and Jax, with Spencer just behind them. Mama J paced at the base of the steps while Lance looked out from the pier railing. Oz, Jax’s boyfriend, and Kieran were on either side of Lance.
If Dane were swimming, they’d fade into indeterminate shapes. Would they be signposts or baggage left behind?
Gideon grabbed on to Dane’s shoulders, fingers biting in hard. Dane met his eyes, but the dark-as-a-pupil irises were unreadable.
“Are you killing yourself today or not? I’d appreciate if you’d decide while there’s still a chance I can save my shoes.”
Dane blinked and then lowered his head to Gideon’s shoulder. As Gideon wrapped warm, hard arms around him, Theo and Jax closed in until Dane was completely surrounded. Whether he deserved it or not, their love anchored him here. He let them take the decision out of his hands.
“YOU LEFT him alone with Spencer?” Theo’s sharp tone grated against the leash Gideon had managed to put on his temper.
“When in our lives has Dane ever done a goddamned thing the way I wanted him to?” A raw edge bled into his words, and Gideon clenched his fists. The pain in his right knuckles reminded him to get a grip.
Theo’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Right.” He blew it out with a sigh. “Okay. What do you need from us?”
“What you do best. Manage an ongoing disaster.” Gideon glanced around the hall. The Partridge-Hawthorne contingent was stunning in its absence, but there were still people milling around hoping for more juicy drama.
“Gideon.” Oz put a plastic bag full of bar ice cubes in Gideon’s hand.
He stared down at it.
Oz tapped his own knuckles. Gideon nodded and held the bag on his hand. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d cracked something with a punch, though it would be the first time he’d done it two weeks before a half-a-million-dollar court case.
He shoved the bag and his hand in his front pocket. “I’m going to go move this along.”
“We’ve got things under control in here.” Kieran put a hand on Theo’s back.
Gideon slipped out of the dining room into the hallway, shutting the french doors behind him. Not that there was a raucous party to bleed through it, but he’d rather keep the witnesses to a minimum if he took another swing at Spencer.
Before he could make his way to the room where he’d reluctantly left Dane, Spencer shot out of it like a man released from prison. Though Gideon never straightened or moved from his vantage point at the doors to the reception hall, Spencer saw him and shifted his course to intercept. If this was going to be payback for the black eye, Gideon was ready. He’d even let him get one shot in. Then Spencer better bring his A game.
Spencer stopped an inch from Gideon’s folded arms. “So. I guess you win now.”
It had never been a contest. Dane hadn’t given Gideon a chance to make it into one. He’d have settled for Dane being okay. If Spencer was what Dane needed to get through this, Gideon had been ready with the ring. Even now, if Dane came out here and told Gideon he still wanted Spencer, Gideon would find a way to make the fucker stick around.
Gideon arranged his features as if he were contemplating Spencer’s words. “Think you have it backwards. You lose.”
“Do you have any idea of what it’s been like?”
To watch Dane in love with someone else? Yeah, Gideon had that covered.
“I mean, to see him suffer,” Spencer went on.
Suffering was part of living. Sometimes it was all there was to living, but the other alternative was worse. Gideon didn’t move.
“I love him. But I can’t.” Spencer’s voice was matter-of-fact.
So the hero photojournalist who dove into civilian unrest and war zones to get dramatic shots was a big fucking coward. Gideon wanted to lay that out for him, but that might make Spencer decide to stick around to prove Gideon wrong. He stared Spencer down and shrugged.
Gideon saw a shadow against the glass doors leading back onto the pier. “Big sis is waiting to make sure I don’t take another swing at you. You pressing charges?”
Spencer swiped at his lip. “No.”
“Dane will move in with one of us.”
“With you, you mean.”
Gideon shrugged. “Someone will come pack up clothes and whatever else he needs.”
“His insurance expires Monday.”
“We’ll take care of it.”
Spencer’s sister stuck her head in. “Are you ready?”
Spencer turned and left without another word.
Gideon watched a gull make a desperate chase for something the wind blew across the wooden boards of the pier, wished the poor feathered fucker luck, and then made his way down the hall to check on Dane.
Before Gideon had taken two steps, Dane popped out of the door and peered around.
Gideon tipped his head at the entrance doors. “All clear.”
“Fuck yeah.” Dane had stripped off his jacket and tie. His blue dress shirt was untucked, unbuttoned at the top, and though he’d put socks back on, the Oxfords were nowhere to be seen. He made his way down the hall with his usual saunter, but Gideon saw the way his eyes were sunk into his skull, their surface glassy.
“So who’s still here?” Dane asked.
“The boys, their dates, Mama J, Lance and his girlfriend, and a very happy group of your former colleagues from Stony Brook University enjoying the open bar.”
Gideon watched Dane’s reaction as he looked through the glass doors, picturing the sad, little reception through Dane’s eyes. Even Gideon could see how funereal it appeared.
“More importantly, there isn’t one Hawthorne or Partridge left,” Gideon added.
“Thank you. Who’s that?” Dane tapped a glass pane, indicating a corner where a man sat behind a table with a computer.
“I think that must be the DJ. I’ll tell him to go.” Gideon reached for the door handle.
“The fuck you will.” Dane got there first. “Who knows how many more chances I’m going to get to party, and I damned well need one today.” He gave Gideon a familiar wink. “Let’s get it on, babe.”
Chapter 4
“HEY. HANDS off his ass.” Theo’s sharp warning drew Gideon’s attention from his drink to the dance floor.
Leave it to Dane to get even quiet Kieran in trouble. Having steered them close to the table where Gideon and Theo were sitting to get precisely that reaction, Dane leered at them over Kieran’s shoulder, and then spun Theo’s husband away so they could no longer see the ass in question.
“Little hubby certainly loosens up with a few shots in him.” Gideon put a hand on the back of Theo’s chair.
“Who fed him the shots?” Theo kept his gaze on the way Dane and Kieran were grinding to the extended house mix of whatever let’s-fuck song had been a summer hit.
“Dane, who else? If you think a rescue is necessary, by all means go claim your right to make an idiot of yourself.”
“No.” Theo sighed, but he didn’t look away. “Let’s get the war council underway.”
“Kieran can handle himself,” Gideon murmured.
Theo’s soft brown eyes went wide with surprise as they fixed on Gideon. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him.”
“I never said I didn’t like him.” More to the point, Gideon had trusted Kieran with keeping Dane occupied. As far as Gideon was concerned, trust rated higher than mild affection.
Theo leaned against the chair back, brows arched. “Never said you did either.”
“Exactly how often do I say I like anyone?”
Theo gave him a reluctant smile and then kissed Gideon’s cheek. He managed not to flinch.
Jax looked up from where he was building a tower with the sea glass and stones from the table’s centerpiece. “Kieran’s got some moves, Thee.”
Theo gave another dramatic sigh. “We all did, once.”
“Speak for yourself, old man.” Gideon elbowed him.
“That’s right. I forgot.” Jax balanced a small bluish pebble on top of his structure. “You were born old.”
Oz nudged the bottom rock a fraction, and it all collapsed. Jax gave him an arch expression and then turned back to Gideon. “So what’s the plan?”
“I was just waiting for—”
“Me.” Mama J dropped into the empty chair on the other side of Gideon. “Sorry, boys. You’ll be peeing all the time too when you get to my age.”
Gideon pulled in his lips at the horrified expression on Jax’s face, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Mama J didn’t disappoint.
“Of course, maybe the regular prostate massages will help you all with that.”
Cheeks reddening, Jax made a strangled sound and bent down to pick up one of the pieces of his collapsed project.
“I’m sorry, Jax. Did I make you uncomfortable?” Mama J controlled her own laughter and met Gideon’s eyes.
“Don’t worry,” Gideon told her. “Jax is extremely comfortable with the idea of a vigorously massaged prostate.”
“Fuck you.” Jax shot back up from beneath the tablecloth. “Oh God, not you, Mama J.”
“I should be so lucky. Do you know how hard it is for a sixty-eight-year-old lesbian to get laid?”
Oz took his hand away from where it had been covering his laughter. “Even in Eugene?” His tone was politely curious.
“Even there, to my deep regret.”
The thump of the speakers made the silence at the table heavier. Gideon knew they were all waiting for him to step up, make the fix, give them their orders so they could go back to pretending everything would end happily. He could only see one solution so far, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, no matter how much he was braced for their remarks about getting what he wanted at last.
He delayed a bit longer. “Is Lance joining us?”
“He’s running interference.” Mama J tilted her head toward the dance floor where Gideon watched Dane’s bio dad sweep Dane and Kieran and a few of the Stony Brook faculty members back off to the bar.
“I can’t believe no one told me.” Jax leveled his accusing stare at both Gideon and Theo.
“For once, this is not about you,” Gideon snapped.
Oz shifted, one of his hands coming to rest on Jax’s back.
Jax lowered his gaze. “That’s not what I meant. He’s my—our—best friend, and our moms—”
Mama J stretched out a hand to cover Jax’s where it curled in a loose fist on the table. “Oh, sweetie, he didn’t tell me until two days ago. Because even he couldn’t hide it from me when I saw him.”
Jax turned the touch into a grip. “I’m sorry.”
She gave his fingers a squeeze and then let him go. “He says it’s because he doesn’t want to upset us, but it’s how he deals. Avoiding. If he doesn’t talk about it, it’s not real.”
“He only told me and Gideon because Spenc—” Theo swallowed the rest of the name in something like a growl, then went on, “because he was traveling for work and Dane needed a ride to chemo.”
“Which introduces the issue at hand.” Gideon felt like he could have been in a boardroom with an assistant passing around copies of the contract under discussion. “Dane’s insurance expires midnight Sunday. He has eight more treatments at Sloan Kettering for this round, beginning on Thursday—”
“This round?” Theo’s alarm threatened to yank at one of Gideon’s dangling raw nerves.
“They’ll do tests to see if it was effective, honey. They may have to do another round.” As if there was a need for proof that life was fucked, poor Mama J already knew this drill, having lost her lover to ovarian cancer five years ago.
“Shit,” Theo muttered, eyes shut. Then he was back. “Well, whatever it costs, he’s not missing a treatment. I’ll pay.”
“Me too,” Jax added. “I’m working now so—”
Mama J tried to explain. “I know all of you boys would give your last penny for him, but it’s going to be—”
“It could run over half a million for these eight weeks.” Gideon cut through her sugarcoating. “This oncologist has the best remission rate with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. But the doctor’s genetic-based treatment protocol is something only top-tier insurance plans will cover.”
“Christ. Fucking insurance companies.” Theo slumped.
“Indeed.” Gideon didn’t agree with most of what he argued in court, but a contract was a contract, and insurance companies paid his firm a lot for litigation support.
“Don’t take it personally.” As if Theo wasn’t the poster boy for taking everything personally.
“I’m not. I’m dealing with the facts. Dane needs the best care possible. To get it he needs the best insurance.” Gideon led them toward the only possibility.
“And how is he supposed to get that if he’s not working?” Jax said.
“Marry someone with it.” Gideon spread his fingers on the pale aqua tablecloth and studied the swelling on his right knuckles to avoid seeing Mama J’s reaction.
“You’re suggesting insurance fraud?” Jax said.
“No, I’m suggesting I marry Dane.”
Chapter 5
“WALK ME out to the car?” Mama J tapped Gideon’s shoulder.
He straightened from his lean near the doors that had been letting him keep an eye on all exits. Mama J was capable of walking herself through any war zone on the planet, let alone a well-lit parking lot at an upscale club in Westhampton. She met his raised-brow look with one of her own. He figured he’d covered everything back at the table, but she must have had something she wanted to say in private.
A quick scan of the room didn’t show any looming disasters. Most of Dane’s former coworkers had been poured into the van Gideon had hired when he saw the direction their celebration was taking. The number of people capable of standing well enough to achieve the dance floor had dwindled. Between exhaustion and alcohol, Gideon didn’t know how Dane was still on his feet. Currently, he was the gyrating meat in a Jax and Oz sandwich, so he was unlikely to fall down without one of them noticing.
The night’s mist and fog made the light from the streetlamps greasy. Moisture slithered over his hands and face and into the gap of his collar where he’d loosened his tie. As they walked, he mentally reviewed everything he’d outlined at the table, looking for some contingency he might have missed. No one had argued with his pronouncement. Even Jax and Theo had refrained from pointing out how convenient the solution was, though Gideon conceded he’d earned a substantial mocking after what he’d said about their own choices. All Theo had done was utter a melodramatic, “Finally.”
He’d have mocked himself if he had the energy for it. Such a thin veneer of rationalization over that raging want, not that he would be getting anything close to what he’d wanted—no, to be nakedly honest, what he’d dreamed of having seventeen years ago, with all the stupid passion a nineteen-year-old possessed. Back when he’d allowed dreams.
Dane Sullivan Archer.
Gideon’s in every way that mattered.
But people couldn’t be owned. Or, to Gideon’s endless annoyance, controlled.
Fuck it. He was over it. Over expecting happiness or love. He’d do this… thing and get Dane through the treatment, because the alternative wasn’t something Gideon would ever allow himself to imagine.
Mama J pressed the fob, and the locks and lights clicked on her rented Corolla. “It’s too bad you aren’t a criminal lawyer.”
Gideon thought his considerable knowledge of insurance coverage contr
act gaps gave them a better edge at a time like this, but he didn’t argue. “Why?”
“Because then there might be a hit man in your Rolodex.”
Gideon adopted his blandest expression. “For?”
She smacked his shoulder, the damp sticking his dress shirt to his skin. Sound clung to the droplets in the air, muffling even as it echoed their speech under a tepid salty cloud. He’d take an alley in Alphabet City with a subway vent in August any day over this murk.
“If I were old enough to be using a cane, I’d have jumped up there and started beating Mr. Spencer fucking Partridge right along with you. What a goddamned drama queen. Acting out some Gladys Knight song with us all to watch.” Mama J was usually too direct for riddles. One of her many fine qualities.
He struggled to make sense of the random reference. “‘Midnight Train’?”
“Never mind. I forget how old I am.”
Gideon tried picturing Dane’s surviving mom leaning on a cane. He couldn’t. Swinging it as a weapon came much more easily to mind.
“You won’t find yourself in trouble because of it?” Mama J’s hair was frizzing out of the short curls she wore. Droplets clung to sandy gray, giving her a halo in the oily light.
“Punching Spencer? I doubt it. He said he wasn’t pressing charges.”
“Good. If you need me to swear out a statement describing him provoking you, I’ll do it.”
Gideon blinked, then widened his eyes. Mama J’s willingness to perjure herself, unasked, made more than atmospheric moisture form in his eyes and forced him to clear his throat. Kindness from Dane’s mother always left Gideon defenseless. He barely remembered his own.
As dryly as he could manage in the liquid air, he said, “I’m not sure testimony from someone who wanted to beat him with a cane would be to my benefit, but I appreciate the gesture.”
She looked at him steadily for a moment. Her eyes were too dark to see the color, but he knew they were hazel, far browner than Dane’s green. The expression in them was all Dane, though. The one that said, I see right through your bullshit, DeLuca, but I’ll let you have it for now.
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