Wound Tight (Made in Jersey #4)

by Tessa Bailey

  Apart from the computer screen, there wasn’t a single light on in the factory, because it was a Saturday. The darkness was fitting. It matched Renner’s insides. His Milo was on the way to Boston for a date with another man. Rendering the email in front of him entirely meaningless. Who cared? Who cared about anything but the man who’d slept in his arms last night? Without Milo to celebrate the victory with, it was empty. A void. Silent.

  Was Milo laughing right now? Was he glad he’d gone?

  Renner stood and plowed his fist into the wall, feeling one of his knuckles pop. Pain shot up his arm, but it was welcome. Thank God for the pain. Only it didn’t last. It sailed away too fast, replaced by the feel of Milo holding his hand in the darkness.

  “Fuck,” Renner roared, then louder. “Fuck!”

  Without registering his intent, Renner sat down at the computer and started to respond to the email, blood trickling down his wrist, dripping onto the keyboard.

  He was rejecting the meeting. Turning it down flat. He didn’t want to be in business with a company who judged a corporation based on his private life, and not on its track record.

  As soon as Renner made the decision, a valve in his chest turned and pressure released. How long had he been living with the strain without realizing it wasn’t normal? Too long. All this time, he’d thought earning the account was about proving he could operate in every aspect of the manufacturing world. Now that the moment arrived…he realized the industry needed to adapt to him. Not the other way around. He was damn good at his job and wouldn’t make any compromises. He worked harder than anyone. And this final step, this final area where he’d thought proving himself was necessary? Turned out, it wasn’t.

  He’d already done that.

  And yeah, it was his imagination, but Milo’s voice found him in the darkness, right against his ear. Score one for the boss man.

  Hearing it was the final push Renner needed to hit send on the email. Hell, Milo had been pushing him all along, hadn’t he? Believing in Renner when he didn’t believe in himself. Forcing him to acknowledge his accomplishments. Why hadn’t he listened? Instead, his insecurities had been a noose around the neck of their relationship, robbing it of breath before it could even get started. Renner’s lack of confidence in himself as a businessman had only been the brick portion of the wall he’d built. The mortar had oozed out in the form of jealousy.

  Pointless, baseless jealousy and distrust of the one person who’d refused to give up on him, no matter how mean or condescending he acted. The man who’d had his back for months, never once deterred in his determination to be Renner’s friend. To be more. Until now.

  Eventually I’m going to wonder if you want me around at all.

  “Christ,” Renner rasped, pushing to his feet and searching the surface of his desk for car keys. Have to get to Boston. Have to get there. “Jesus Christ.”

  Without bothering to shut down his computer, Renner blew down the stairs to the factory floor and made for the side exit, which led into the employee parking lot. He’d parked there to make Milo happy, but his boyfriend would never know, would he? Milo was on some quest to stop Renner from questioning his loyalty, when questioning it was the one thing that could inflict damage.

  Was it too late to patch the wound?

  Please God, don’t let me be too late.

  …

  Milo looked across the table at Travis.

  It was like standing beneath a sprinkle when he’d just fought to the surface of a tidal wave. The dampness barely registered. At one time, he’d been magnetized by Travis. Hadn’t he? Or had being with Renner erased his sense memory? He felt nothing for Travis now but fondness. But he’d already known that before the drive to Boston, so that acknowledgment didn’t surprise him at all. God he was numb.

  Travis laughed into the uncomfortable silence. “I was glad you called,” the chef said. “You left Boston without any notice. I wondered if there was some kind of family emergency.”

  “No.” Milo’s voice sounded rusty, so he cleared it, but the effort only made his chest ache more. “No, some army buddies had a security gig for me. I guess I was looking for a change of scenery, too.”

  “Oh, and a pop star wasn’t good enough scenery?” Travis teased, waggling his eyebrows. “This security gig must be pretty sweet to leave Holly Burbank behind.”

  When he’d pictured this dinner, it hadn’t been easy. Throw in the added weight of heartbreak, and everything was distorted and hollow. He just wanted to be anywhere else. Anywhere. Or maybe just drunk to the point of forgetting the taste of Renner’s mouth. The anchor of his hands when they fisted in Milo’s hair. His elusive laugh.

  He wouldn’t allow this opportunity to pass, though. As much as it hurt to even be functioning in a humanlike capacity right now, Milo owed it to himself to make the most of this dinner. Maybe the outcome would be far different than he’d ever imagined, but it would have a purpose. It wouldn’t be wasted on self-pity.

  “I, um…” Milo picked up his beer and set it back down. “It is a pretty sweet gig. Back in New Jersey. I wasn’t sure if everything would feel the same, with those friends from the army. We weren’t fighting and away from home anymore. But it’s actually better. They’re good people. There are so many good people in Hook.”

  Travis’s eyebrows drew together, clearly puzzled by the serious turn in conversation. “Glad to hear it, man.”

  “Yeah. I’m going back. I’m happy there.” Nerves whizzed in Milo’s bloodstream. Not the excited type he experienced around Renner. Just general, holy shit I’m talking openly about things that used to be a mystery kind of nerves. “I’m actually in Boston tonight to see you. Specifically.”

  “Really?” Travis leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Why?”

  “Well. Mostly because I’m in love with this jerk and he’s blowing it.”

  The chef did a double take. “Come again?” He pointed at Milo. “You’re—”

  “Yeah.” He nodded once, enjoying the rush of freedom. “Yes.”

  “Oh.” Travis’s mouth tugged at one side. “Well, I guess that explains why you could give up the job watching Holly’s back so easily.”

  Milo laughed. “Yeah. Something like that.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you it helped me a lot…watching how confident you were in being…you. It went a long way toward me doing the same.”

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say,” Travis said, running a hand through his blond hair. “You’re welcome and let’s celebrate? Take your mind off the jerk for a while?”

  As if anything would.

  “Sounds good.”

  Milo sat back and listened to Travis talk about his experiences cooking for several celebrities and one blooper he’d taken credit for on the Today show. In fact, Milo didn’t say much at all, and he was kind of grateful Travis apparently talked a lot more than he remembered.

  It gave Milo time to think.

  After what he’d said to Travis about learning to be himself, Milo needed to put his money where his mouth was. He’d always been the kind of man who forgave easily. It was just his nature. But he wouldn’t go back to Hook and pick up where he’d left off with Renner, even though he’d proven his feelings for Travis were purely friendly.

  No, that wouldn’t work. He’d been hurt. Not just his heart, but his pride, had been scored. Letting Renner back in while his wounds were still fresh would guarantee he healed with mangled scar tissue, instead of a clean scar.

  Milo couldn’t let that happen. Maybe the Milo who’d followed Renner around for months, trying to learn from his confidence, would have smiled through the pain of being cut loose. Again. But Milo was worth more than that. He was worthy of better. Always had been, despite his lack of money. It shouldn’t have taken his broken heart to force that realization, but sometimes an old idea needed to burn down for a better one to be built on top. Over the past week, he’d come out to his friends, thrown himself into new situations, and
driven to Boston, facing the past insecurities he’d run away from. He wasn’t hiding anymore, and he wouldn’t be cast aside, either. Allowing someone to do that to him only damaged the progress he’d made.

  As brutally difficult as it would be, he needed to steer clear of Renner Bastion until his newfound convictions took a permanent hold. Because he wouldn’t survive being pushed away or cast aside ever again. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he’d survive it this time.

  …

  Renner had hit traffic.

  The shitty kind that didn’t cooperate no matter how many times a man laid on the horn or made promises to God. And the second Milo stepped out of the restaurant—wearing that goddamn jacket—Renner had the overwhelming sense that he’d lost him.

  From across the street, Renner watched as he shook hands with the Australian chef, each of them going his separate way. Which should have been a relief, but wasn’t, because Renner had already gut-checked himself into knowing the connection between him and Milo ran both ways. That it was authentic and something to be treasured, not handled so fucking callously that Renner could barely stomach thinking about what he’d done.

  Watching as Milo shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, trudging down the street alone, Renner made a low sound and crossed the street after him.

  “Milo,” Renner called, just as he reached the sidewalk. “Milo.”

  The other man stopped and turned…and it was right there on his face. The proof that Renner had come way too late to save the day. That closed-off expression pummeled him like a heavyweight boxer, because he’d never seen Milo anything but open. Without barriers.

  Jesus, if I don’t fix this, I’ll never recover. Never forgive myself.

  “I’m sorry.” Renner approached Milo slowly, his voice cutting through the traffic racing past. “I can’t believe I asked you to come here. I’m…ashamed I even thought about it.”

  Milo looked away. “Why?”

  They were only a few yards apart now, and Renner wanted to lunge the remaining distance and drag Milo into his arms, but knew it would be too much. Worse, he might lose this chance to explain himself. To look at Milo and talk to him. “Why?” Renner sucked up his fears and spoke from the middle of his chest. “Because you are mine, Milo. I’m yours. And I shouldn’t have questioned that. I hate myself for questioning that.”

  He’d surprised Milo. Thank God. Surprised the shut-down expression off his face by being the one to say the words out loud. “How do I know—” He halted midsentence and ripped the jacket off his body, hurling it at the closest trash can. “I hate that fucking jacket.”

  Renner’s heart seized. “Yeah. I hate it, too.”

  Milo pinched the bridge of his nose, visibly trying to calm down, and it was a huge relief, knowing he wasn’t calm. Because Renner was a zillion miles from anything resembling calm. The date was over. The buzzer had gone off and he’d failed. Renner knew how god-awful sitting in traffic had been, wanting to claw off his own skin. But what had it been like for Milo? To be in the actual restaurant, thinking Renner didn’t give enough of a fuck to stop him?

  “What were you going to say?” Renner rasped.

  “How do I know you won’t do this again?” Milo burst out. “Fuck you, Renner. This hurt.”

  Renner was winded by the pain in Milo’s voice. “I’m sorry.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me how it went?” Milo asked, coming closer and shoving one of Renner’s shoulders. Renner welcomed it, because at least Milo was touching him. “Aren’t you going to ask if there’s going to be a second date?”

  “No, I’m not,” Renner managed around the misery of the very possibility. “You’re coming back to Hook because you told me you would. You said it and I believe you. And because I’m not leaving without my boyfriend.”

  Milo’s eyes flickered at Renner’s use of the title, but they cut away. “You are, actually.” He stepped back. Away. “I’m making my own way home. I need some time.”

  “I need you.” Renner had no choice but to lay himself bare. “Milo, I…there was someone who hurt me a long time ago. It was serious. And he left me for someone else.” Funny how making the admission now was so easy. So easy, but so late. A face from the past had no place in that moment when the present world was ending. “That doesn’t give me the right to assume you would do the same. I know that. I think I tried to push you into it because…you leaving me was inevitable.”

  “It wasn’t,” Milo whispered, giving a jerky shrug of his shoulders. “It was you since the beginning.”

  “It’s me now.” Renner stepped closer. “Can you just let it be me now?”

  Milo backed away, looking torn. Confused. “I don’t know anymore.” It clearly hurt him to say those words, but he wasn’t taking them back. Strength was bleeding through the confusion, and it was nothing short of beautiful. Agonizing but beautiful. “I claimed you, Renner. I made you my friend. Made you my…more. I needed you to claim me in return. That was all I needed.”

  Renner could barely speak around the failure, but he couldn’t let Milo leave without making him a vow. Something to remember. “I’m not giving up on us. I’m not going away,” Renner ground out, repeating back Milo’s words from a long-ago day in his office. “I’m refusing to be without you.”

  I love you.

  If Renner had said it out loud, maybe Milo would have stayed, instead of turning the corner and vanishing out of sight, leaving Renner reeling on the sidewalk.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  So this is what is feels like to be a zombie.

  Renner could barely muster the energy it took to move the gearshift, putting his car into park. After that, he could only stare through the windshield at the cinder-block exterior of the factory, breathing. He’d taken the final available space in the employee parking lot, which was new, since he was usually the first to arrive. Cutting himself some slack when it came to work had become easier, though, for two reasons. Because of Milo, Renner had finally stepped back and taken stock of his accomplishments and realized he no longer needed to grind himself into the ground to achieve his version of success. And secondly, work had fallen to number two on the list of important things.

  Number one was probably inside the factory wondering if Renner still cared.

  Still cared? He was consumed. Some moments he wondered if he would ever be capable of caring about anything but the man who owned his heart.

  Staying away had been like sawing off his limbs with a rusted blade, but Renner hadn’t laid eyes on Milo in five miserable days. Now he leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. Not grinding himself into the ground. Right. Is that why he’d been working late every night this week?

  It would be worth turning into a flesh-eating half human if his efforts won back Milo. He was doing it the only way he knew how. Through being business-minded. Through being…Renner. Maybe if he’d stayed true to himself when it came to Milo, he wouldn’t be in such physical pain right now. Did he even have the wherewithal to climb out of the car? What if his plan didn’t work?

  He couldn’t just live without the best thing that ever happened to him. Did people do that? Was this shitty, aching wasteland in the center of his chest where all the sappy love songs came from? If so, Renner now had a whole new appreciation. Over the last five days, he could have written fifty albums while mourning the loss of the greatest gain imaginable.

  Being cut off from Milo hadn’t done a damn thing to decrease the possessiveness. His man was alone at night. Renner wasn’t there to keep him warm. To keep his body sated. Worse, he knew Milo had a need to fuss over Renner that wasn’t being met, tripling his misery. Had he actually complained about Milo bringing him sandwiches? How could a man be so blind to luck?

  More than once a day, he’d broken down and called Samantha, asking for news about Milo. God knew his sister had a bleeding heart, but she wasn’t taking any mercy on him either, doling out the tiniest tidbits—Milo is alive…Milo looked hot today—before claiming the pre
gnancy was making her tired. And hanging up.

  Winning back the man he loved and needed beyond reason was up to him.

  So today he would take his shot. If he failed…

  He would live with a hole in his chest. Indefinitely.

  His apology in Boston hadn’t been enough, so Renner had gone big. At this point, all he had was hope. Hope that Milo hadn’t spent the last five days realizing he was better off without Renner. Or assuming Renner had moved on without a fight.

  Yeah. Not happening.

  A loud knock on the driver’s-side window had Renner’s spine snapping straight. “What the—” Standing outside the car were Duke and Vaughn, arms crossed, looking prepared to mete out vengeance. Zombie killers. “What do you want?”

  Vaughn leaned back against the car parked beside Renner’s Mercedes. “You want to get out of the car or what?”

  “Not particularly, no.” But he was too fucking tired to shout through the glass, so Renner unlocked the door and pulled the handle, nudging it open a few inches. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

  “We were going to ask you the same question,” Duke answered. “You usually break balls around the factory before leaving us to our own devices and going to oversee another project. But the light has been off in your office for days, and you have everyone worried.”

  Renner had to throw an eye roll at that. “Oh, right. I’m positive every employee is praying the Rosary as we speak, just terrified something happened to their beloved boss.” Duke and Vaughn exchanged a look that made Renner anxious. “What? What was that?”

  “It’s only one employee, really,” Vaughn said, shifting in his boots. “Milo is a wreck thinking you left Jersey for good. And while we’re on the subject of our friend from Boston…”

  “You need to figure that shit out,” Duke finished, completely unaware that Renner’s heart had rammed into his throat at the mention of Milo being upset. “We don’t know what happened between you two—”