Doubleback

by Lissa Ford

  Rowan rubbed Jude’s back while Jude sucked in air through his nose and out his mouth. He murmured instructions to breathe, calm down, the incident was over, everything was going to be okay. Jude wondered if Rowan was even aware he was doing it. Even if Jude had the breath to tell him to stop, he’d cut his left nut off first. Rowan’s touch felt too good.

  After a minute, someone handed Rowan a yellow prescription bottle; Rowan shook a white Xanax tablet out into his palm and offered it to Jude.

  Jude squeezed his eyes shut as he took the pill. He swallowed it dry, with practiced ease.

  Rowan stroked the back of Jude’s neck. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  Jude nodded wearily. Now that the urge to escape had drained off and his breathing regulated, he felt too fucking tired to do anything more than sit right there. Taking a nap on the nasty tarmac also sounded like a good option. Whatever it took to blot out the last horrible half hour.

  Rowan watched Jude pensively for a moment. Making sure he obeyed? Wouldn’t flip out again? Then Rowan stroked a gentle thumb over Jude’s cheek and along his jaw before he rose and turned away.

  While Jude sat on the pavement waiting for the pill to take effect, Rowan efficiently handled crowd control and the uniformed city beat cop who had responded to the call. Statements were made and taken.

  An EMS vehicle rolled into the parking lot, lights off. The EMTs took Jude’s pulse and gave him some oxygen. His head and leg were palpated, eyes and throat checked. Jude was standing shakily at the back door of the EMS truck, his leg throbbing dully, when Rowan returned and asked for a report on Jude’s condition in an authoritative voice. Jude raised a brow at Rowan’s possessive tone.

  “He shouldn’t be left alone,” one of the paramedics said. “The symptoms may return anytime in the next 24 hours. Rest, hydration, engaging in a low key activity like walking…”

  Jude had heard it all before, so he tuned out while he watched Rowan intently listen to the instructions. He studied Rowan for the distaste he sensed earlier, but could see nothing. Rowan had retreated into brisk professionalism. Jude was just another problem to be solved.

  “Got it,” Rowan said when the paramedic finished. “I’ll take it from here.” The small knot of looky-loos had dispersed and the dinner crowd was starting to stream into Heid’s, some giving the emergency vehicles a curious look before going inside for their food. The incident was over. Life went on. It always did.

  Rowan turned to Jude and said, “You’re coming home with me. Don’t argue.”

  Jude opened his mouth to argue.

  Rowan forestalled Jude by gripping his shoulders with both hands. The protest in Jude’s throat dried.

  “You heard what the paramedic said. You shouldn’t be left alone right now.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m not sending you back to your cabin in the sticks by yourself. Someone just tried to kill you, Anderson. Let that sink in.”

  “Tried to kill us,” Jude choked out.

  “You, us, doesn’t matter. Shit just got complicated. You need to go somewhere safe, and your place isn’t secure.”

  Rowan was right, but his solution was not. “But—”

  “For fucking once, Jude, just shut up and do what I say without making me give you a hundred justifications. Just trust me enough to make it easy on us both. Okay?”

  Jude blinked at the hint of pleading in Rowan’s voice. “Okay,” he answered.

  Rowan’s hands dropped away. Jude shivered, immediately missing the warmth of human contact. He covered it up by sticking his own hands in the pockets of his Levis.

  “We’ll come back for your truck later. I got these.” Rowan held up the plastic tube of Jude’s Xanax. “Need anything else out of there?” he asked gruffly.

  Shame heated Jude’s face. “No.”

  Rowan pointedly opened the passenger door of his Crown Vic. Jude took a deep breath to quash the longing unspooling in him. Rowan’s hands had felt so good. He reminded himself not to read anything into it. Rowan had had a scare, that’s all. Touching Jude so much earlier had been a stress reaction. Nothing more. The Grand Canyon-sized gulf between them would be back as soon as the immediate danger had passed and Rowan fully absorbed the messed up nature of Jude’s condition.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Rowan’s Westcott loft was the same as Jude remembered. The top floor of the renovated former brewery boasted a stunning view of Syracuse’s metro area while being located within walking distance of Syracuse University’s Carrier Dome. The open floor plan came with exposed brick walls, chrome track lighting and refurbished hardwood floors. Jude suppressed a smirk. Despite the sophisticated architecture, Rowan still insisted on hanging an ugly-ass mural of SU’s Orangeman mascot in the place of pride next to his 50-inch flat screen television. A titanium touring bike leaned against one wall next to a Japanese bȱ staff. Even within the soundproofed walls, freeway noise from I-92 could be heard in an undertone, as well as the faint roar of commercial airliners flying overhead. After a year of living in a rural area, city noises weren’t something Jude could automatically tune out anymore.

  “Make yourself at home.” Rowan tossed his keys on the kitchen counter. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, revealing a holster and sidearm. Mournfully, he regarded the dirt streaking the back of the jacket. “That’s going to leave a mark,” he remarked, disappearing down the hall to the master bedroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Make yourself at home. The words echoed in Jude’s head. He thought he’d never hear Rowan say anything like that to him ever again.

  He scrubbed a weary hand over his face, refusing to think about the weird turn of events between them, and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. His mouth tasted like chalk and brimstone. His chest ached now that the panic attack had ended and his heart had decided to stop bashing him from the inside. The wound in his leg throbbed dully, but he was glad it was going to go back to its usually twingy state instead of ramping up to a constant stab of pain each time he moved.

  The glasses were right where they used to be, in the cabinet over the sink.

  He heard Rowan talking to someone in the other room. The words Natsios, check on, coroner filtered from down the hall. Jude didn’t want to hear it so he turned on the tap, chugged down a full glass, then refilled another and chugged it down. Carrying a half-full glass to the coffee table, he sat on the couch, gingerly. He wasn’t taking Rowan’s invitation at face value.

  In any event, he was stuck at Rowan’s for the night. Someone was going to have to feed and water Blue and Red. Jude pulled out his phone and pondered. He could call his neighbor Riley—and be mercilessly bitched at for the next four weeks.

  Since Jude was kind of over having his ass chewed out, he instead hit the shortcut to Kyle Blake’s number. Kyle had been to Jude’s place before, when they’d gone fishing together. Jude knew he could trust him.

  “Yo, Jude,” Kyle greeted him, cheerful but a little breathless, like he’d had to snatch up his phone. “Whaddup?”

  “Hey, Kyle. You got a minute?”

  “Yeah, I’m just closing out the register. Dude, you okay? You sound funny.”

  “Yeah, fine. I’m fine. I got…hung up in the metro area.” Jude wasn’t sure how much he should say about the case, so he retreated into topic avoidance. “I need to ask you a favor. Can you feed the horses? I’m not going to be able to go home for, um, a while yet.”

  “Yeah, man, no problem. Just tell me what you need.”

  Jude sighed inwardly. Kyle’s lack of curiosity was a relief. Jude was getting too suspicious of everyone.

  He gave Kyle simple instructions: hay, grain, water. Make sure the salt lick hadn’t been kicked out of the paddock. He was about to beep off with a ‘thanks, man, I owe you’ when Kyle asked, “We still on for Saturday?”

  “Saturday?” Jude repeated.

  “Fly fishing. At Canada Creek, remember? We’ll need to hit
it early before the day trippers get there and fuck up the ambiance.”

  Jude had totally forgotten about the fishing trip. “I’m not sure I can make it now. Something’s come up, with the, ah, case we talked about today, remember? I’m not going to be able to leave town for a while now, until it’s resolved.”

  The silence was so complete, Jude looked at the phone to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “Hello? Kyle?”

  Jude heard Kyle draw in a breath, followed by, “Are you sure you’re okay, Jude?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s no big deal, just a temporary hassle. Anyway, I really appreciate it. If you need a favor from me when this is all over, just ask.”

  “Oh, I will,” Kyle muttered. Jude wondered if Kyle was pissed off, after all and opened his mouth to ask when Kyle said, “Don’t worry about the horses, man. I’ll take care of them. I gotta jet,” and abruptly beeped off.

  Jude pulled the now-silent phone away from his ear and stared at it, frowning. Despite his assurances, Kyle sounded ticked off. Maybe by asking the favor, Jude had overstepped. Maybe Kyle would have to deal with his girlfriend’s bitching again.

  Uneasiness prickled the back of Jude’s neck. Or maybe the disquiet was the residual effects of the panic attack. Sometimes he couldn’t tell the difference, not when he’d had a bad one, and the one he’d had was as bad as any he’d suffered.

  “Who was that?”

  Jude jerked in surprise. Rowan was standing behind him, towel in hand. He’d changed out of his suit. A worn tee-shirt and track pants nearly hanging off his ass displayed his taut, muscular body. Dark hair dusted his flat lower belly where the shirt rode up. He’d been wiping water from washing his face. Jude could see water droplets still clinging to the underside of his jaw. His lashes were wet and spiky, narrowed over tawny eyes simmering with suspicion.

  “A friend,” Jude answered, puzzled. “I need someone to feed the horses. If I’m staying here tonight,” he added, wondering if that was going to happen after all, now.

  “Friend,” Rowan repeated dubiously.

  “You know, a person to hang around with, who might share common interests?”

  A breath of reluctant laughter. Abruptly Rowan plopped down next to Jude on the couch. “Smartass. How long have you known this guy? Kyle, right?”

  Every nerve in Jude’s body went on alert. “Not long. He’s the fly fishing specialist at FLOW.”

  “You and your hobbies.”

  “Yeah, me and my hobbies, which pay my bills,” Jude retorted, irritated.

  “This Kyle dude seems as if he’s more than a friend if he’s familiar enough with your property to feed your horses.”

  Jude was confused. “Why are you prying about Kyle?”

  “You and I were nearly run over about an hour ago. I think I have the right to pry.”

  “Kyle has nothing to do with the attempted hit-and-run. He was at work when I called him. And just to set the record straight, he’s not really a friend; more of an acquaintance.”

  “Oh? The same way Travis Gruber was just an acquaintance?”

  Jude wondered if the expression on his face was as wounded as he felt because Rowan flinched.

  “Sorry, sorry.” Rowan’s hand traveled through his hair. “Shit. I keep being an asshole about Gruber, and it’s not helpful. I’ll stop. Try to, anyway.”

  Jude blinked, surprised at Rowan’s admission. It was…vulnerable. Which was very unlike this newer, harder Rowan but Jude was too tired to keep parsing Rowan’s intent. Before Jude could stop himself, he said, “Would you feel better knowing that hooking up with Travis was the first time I’d been with anyone, since…”

  “Since?”

  Rowan was so still, Jude wasn’t sure he was breathing. Rowan wouldn’t look at him. In fact, he was so tense he was like a bowstring ready to snap. Jude could practically feel the air vibrating between them.

  Jude swallowed. “Since you.”

  Rowan lifted his eyes to Jude’s, wordless.

  “Yeah. The first fucking time. And look what happened.” Jude snorted softly when Rowan’s silence stretched out. Maybe Jude had shocked him. Or maybe Rowan didn’t care, like he’d kept insisting, Jude didn’t know anymore. “Perhaps it’s a sign to stay celibate. My track record is pretty shitty.”

  Rowan stirred sluggishly, like he was waking from a dream. “Jude, I—”

  “No. Don’t.” The last thing Jude wanted was Rowan Muir’s pity. He’d shut it down when they were together, and he sure as hell wouldn’t allow it now that they weren’t. He fisted his hands to keep them from trembling. It was fucking with his head, being inside Rowan’s loft where Jude had spent happy days of goofing around and lush nights of passion. Sitting next to Rowan was quietly unraveling his composure. Jude closed his eyes, so he could get a grip on his fraying nerves. Too late, he realized his mistake because the second he did so, his olfactory senses came alive, invaded by the scent of soap, Downy fabric softener and Rowan.

  The silence lengthened. Jude’s heart started its irregular rhythm again. He took a deep breath. In. Out. In.

  “Does Kyle know about your panic attacks?” Rowan asked softly.

  Out.

  Jude opened his eyes. “No. No one knows. It’s too—” Jude’s voice died on the word shameful. He dropped his gaze to his hands which rested in fists on his thighs. Red furred, freckled, they looked fucking huge. His thighs were like logs encased in denim. He felt big and clumsy next to Rowan’s tensile strength. Like Horton the Elephant, hanging on to the Whoville of his dignity with all his might.

  “When did they start?” Rowan asked, a little too carefully. “The panic attacks.”

  Jude’s first instinct was to stonewall, then retreat. But then he realized he was too exhausted to circle the wagons anymore. Let Rowan crack him open like a coconut; he couldn’t fight him off anymore because it didn’t matter. They were over, anyway.

  “They started during the trial.” Jude’s words came hesitantly. Except for the psychiatrist on staff at the hospital, he’d never talked about any of this to anyone before. “It must have… triggered something. The Morelli lawyers were dredging up every tiny thing about me, including my sexuality.”

  “Your sexuality?”

  “Yeah. I was a gay man in a profession that isn’t diverse. Ergo, my gayness might have warped my professional judgment, they argued. Anyway, I was being prepared by my counsel for the real possibility of incarceration. The press over shooting the pregnant girl was turning negative. Giving the deposition was like reliving the shooting over and over.”

  “The deposition? Wasn’t that when you were still in the hospital?”

  “Yeah.” Jude snatched at another lungful of air, trying to block shameful memories. “It really did a number on me.”

  Rowan was quiet for so long, Jude looked up. A light of realization seemed to be dawning in Rowan’s eyes.

  Jude sucked in another life-saving gulp of air because he knew what was going to come out of Rowan’s mouth next. And it did.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you keep your problems from me?” Rowan looked…hurt.

  Jude wanted to laugh. That was rich. Rowan was hurt that Jude had let him go free so Rowan could have everything he wanted. “You know why,” Jude snapped, suddenly angry that Rowan was digging his knife into Jude’s deepest scar.

  “No, I don’t. Because you won’t fucking tell me. And don’t give me that bullshit about protecting me from being forced out of the closet from the negative publicity. You were pushing me away.”

  “I wasn’t pushing you away; you were going away all on your own.”

  “And you know that how?” Rowan sneered.

  “Give me a break. It was obvious you were avoiding coming to the hospital.”

  “I wasn’t avoiding it, I was working my ass off—”

  “Nobody works that much, Ro, even when promotion is on the table.”

  Rowan had the grace to turn a little red. “I—” He sighed explosively.
“Okay, maybe you’re right. I don’t like hospitals. I…have a lot of bad memories associated with them.”

  “Such as?”

  “I don’t want to go there, okay? This is about you.”

  “No, this is about us.”

  “There is no us anymore, Jude.”

  Jude ignored that retort for now; he wouldn’t rise to the bait just yet. “Let me get this straight. I’m the asshole for not being transparent about my fucked-upedness, but you can cock block any questions I have about your past and that’s okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s how it’s going to be.” Anger whirled in Rowan’s eyes and Jude felt his own blood rising in response. “You don’t get to break me open anymore, Jude. That ended when we split.”

  “Break you open? What the fuck are you talking about?” Jude cried. “You sledgehammer me apart every chance you get!”

  Rowan snorted derisively. “How is that possible when you’re like Mt. Rushmore staring down at me like a fucking block of granite? Words bounce right off you.”

  “It’s kind of hard to talk to someone who’s never around.”

  “I might have been around more if you’d opened up. You should have told me about the panic attacks, Jude. You should have told me why you wanted out of the relationship. You should have respected me enough to give me a choice.”

  “You may talk a big game about empathy and understanding, but I saw the way you looked at me during my attack when I asked for my meds, Rowan. I saw the disgust—”

  “That was concern, you dumbass!” Rowan yelled.

  “Bullshit!” Jude yelled right back. “Bull fucking shit!”

  Jude suddenly realized they were shouting in each other’s faces. Rowan’s eyes widened at the same time, then narrowed as they drifted over the planes of Jude’s face. He wasn’t prepared when Rowan clapped an angry hand on the back of Jude’s neck and smashed his lips over Jude’s.