The minute he got the rental on the road, he lit up a cigarette. Thankfully, the company had still had a smoker’s car available. Since he hadn’t remembered to pack his MP3 player, Patrick had to make do with local radio. The long drive to the rural town outside of Calgary where Brad lived gave him too much time to think, which he didn’t want to do. All he wanted to do was to make sure that Brad was okay.
By the time he pulled onto Brad’s street, it was dark, and he was on his fourth cigarette. He parked his rental on the street in front of Brad’s house and headed up to the front door. It looked dark inside.
Letting out a nervous breath, Patrick knocked on the door. He didn’t get an answer. Patrick tried the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. That wasn’t exactly safe. Patrick would have to talk to Brad about that. Pushing the door open, Patrick let himself in, closing and locking the door behind him.
The house was dark inside, and cold. Dropping his bag by the door, Patrick stepped further inside. “Brad?” There was no answer to his call. Thinking that in front of the fireplace would be a good place to start looking, Patrick stepped into the living room and turned on the light. That was where he spotted Brad.
The younger man was curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Stepping closer, Patrick took a good look at the man who had been a prominent fixture in his dreams. He looked awful. The floor in front of the couch was scattered with tissues. His blond hair was sticking up all over the place. He had a quilt wrapped around him, and even in sleep, his eyes were puffy from crying. There was a picture of his grandmother clutched in his hands.
Not wanting to wake him just yet, Patrick decided that he should at least make sure the house was reasonably tidy before he roused Brad to send him to bed. Spotting the thermostat on the wall, the first thing Patrick did was turn the heat on. He set it at a temperature that wouldn’t be too warm, grabbed his bag, and headed up the stairs. He went straight to Brad’s bedroom but paused at the door when he was hit with the memories. Memories of nights spent in that bed holding Brad. Shaking himself out of the past with a small smile, Patrick dropped his bag by the door and headed for the cord attached to the electric blanket. He turned it to high. Patrick wanted to get the sheets warm before he brought Brad upstairs.
Patrick headed to the kitchen next. He wanted to make sure that Brad hadn’t left any food sitting out. Patrick remembered how when his own grandmother had died, everything had just faded away. It was hard to concentrate while experiencing that much emotional pain. The only thing in the kitchen was a half-full glass of orange juice sitting on the kitchen table. Everything else appeared to be in the proper place. Patrick dumped the juice down the sink before putting the glass in the dishwasher. After that was done, he moved around the house, checking to make sure that all of the windows and doors were locked, before he went to wake up Brad.
Stepping in front of the couch, Patrick crouched down so that his face was level with Brad’s. He reached out and ran a gentle hand along Brad’s tear-stained cheek. “Brad.”
Brad shifted on the couch and slowly opened bloodshot blue eyes. He blinked at Patrick in sleepy confusion. “Patrick?”
“Hey, Angel. Think you can stand up for me?”
“Maybe.” The blue eyes woke up a tad more. “Why do you want me to stand up?”
“I want to get you up to bed and I don’t think I can carry you.” Patrick used his hands to help Brad into a sitting position. It was a bit complicated, since Brad wouldn’t let go of the picture, but Patrick wasn’t going to make him put it down. Patrick grasped both of Brad’s shoulders as he started to sway. “Easy, Angel, try not to move too fast. You eat anything today?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Okay, that’s a no. I’ll make you some eggs in the morning.” Patrick ran a hand down Brad’s cheek. “I know that you’re hurting, but you’ve got to eat something or you’ll get sick.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know, Angel, I know. Right now, let’s just get you up to bed.” Patrick made sure both of Brad’s feet were planted on the ground before giving his legs a quick rub. “Think you can stand?”
“If you help me.” Brad managed to make a bashful expression grace his sorrowful face. “I’m not sure how long I’ve been on the couch.”
Patrick raised one hand to Brad’s cheek. “I think I can do that.” He grasped one of Brad’s hands and climbed to his feet. Noting the grip that Brad had on the picture of his grandmother, Patrick cupped the elbow of that arm instead of trying to get the younger man to let go of the picture. When he was sure that he had a firm grip, he looked into Brad’s sad eyes. “Ready?”
Brad nodded and tightened his grip on Patrick’s hand. Patrick took a breath and hauled the other man to his feet. Brad almost fell when his legs gave out on him, but Patrick got an arm around his waist and pulled him close. He ended up supporting most of Brad’s weight when he refused to let go of the picture to keep from falling. Patrick stood there with his arms around Brad, while Brad slowly got his footing. He didn’t relax his hold until he felt Brad pull away slightly.
Patrick kept an arm around Brad’s waist as they slowly moved to the stairs. Getting Brad up them if he couldn’t help was not going to be fun. Brad was only two inches shorter than his six foot two inches, so carrying him would not be easy and would most likely result in him dropping Brad on the stairs. The last thing that Brad needed was to be dropped down the stairs. It was slow going, but Patrick managed to get them up the stairs and into the bedroom. They made it to the edge of the bed before Brad stopped moving. He was obviously tired, but he was looking from the bed to the picture in his hand with renewed sorrow on his handsome face.
Patrick gently touched the arm holding the picture but made sure to not touch the actual frame. “Why don’t you put it on the nightstand? That way you’ll be able to see it when you wake up.”
“Okay.” Brad moved the two steps to put the picture on the nightstand, making sure that the picture of his grandmother was facing the bed. He then turned to Patrick with a lost look on his face. “Now what?”
“Now we get you ready for bed,” Patrick replied. Brad was pliant in his arms as Patrick stripped him down to his boxers. The younger man had started to shake slightly by the time Patrick urged him into the bed. Patrick could see tears forming in the blue eyes once again. He tucked the covers around Brad’s shoulders and turned the blanket off. He didn’t want to melt Brad during the night.
“Patrick.”
Patrick crouched down so he was at eye level with Brad. “What, Angel?”
“Stay with me? I have no idea what time it is, but I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Sure thing, Angel.” Patrick ran a hand down Brad’s damp cheek. Standing, he removed his badge from his belt, placed it on the nightstand, headed over to the door, and turned off the light. He hadn’t wanted to go through the hassle of filling out the paperwork to bring his gun with him; that would have delayed his ability to get to Brad, so his gun was still in his gun safe at home. In the dark, he quickly stripped down to his boxer-briefs before crawling into bed next to Brad. Turning on his side, he wrapped his arms around Brad and pulled him close. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect,” Brad whispered. He grabbed Patrick’s hand and pulled it tighter against his chest.
Shifting slightly, Patrick closed the last bit of distance between them. When he had Brad pressed against his chest, he laced the fingers of his captured hand with Brad’s, giving the hand a squeeze. After a few moments, he felt Brad begin to shake. He pressed his lips to Brad’s neck and murmured soothing words as the younger man cried. Patrick curled his body around Brad’s, as if to protect him from the pain that he was feeling. Despite his exhaustion, Patrick stayed awake while Brad cried himself to sleep.
Once sure that Brad was done crying, Patrick relaxed his hold enough to settle himself against the pillows. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of Brad’s neck when his lover murmured in his sleep. As Brad settled, P
atrick felt his hectic day hit him. Listening to the sounds of Brad’s even breathing, Patrick finally allowed his exhausted body to rest.
Chapter 11
BRAD was dreaming. At least, he thought he was dreaming. It was the good dream, the one where he was wrapped in Patrick’s arms while the other man slept behind him instead of his own bed in Ontario. He could almost feel the heat of the other man’s body. With a sigh, Brad opened his eyes. His eyes landed on the picture of his grandmother, and the events of the day before came rushing back to him.
His grandmother was dead. Brad felt like there was a hole inside of him and he didn’t know if it would ever get better. As he gazed at the picture, his eyes caught sight of the item behind it. There was a detective’s badge on his nightstand. He wasn’t a detective. The person behind him made a sound in his sleep and pulled Brad closer. Brad felt his eyes widen in shock.
Not dreaming. I called Patrick. Now fully awake, Brad let his eyes wander around the room. He spotted the duffle bag on the floor by his bedroom door. There was an Ontario Police Department emblem on it, further proving that the man behind him was Patrick. Sighing softly, Brad pressed himself farther into Patrick’s arms. The older man’s scent swam over him, and he inhaled greedily. He had missed having Patrick’s scent in his bed. Although, he could do without the cigarette smell. He’d have to talk to Patrick about quitting.
“So, how long do you plan on lying there before you admit that you’re awake?”
“Forever?” Brad sighed as he felt Patrick chuckle against his back. “I don’t really want to face the day.”
“Understandable,” Patrick replied. His breath was warm against the back of Brad’s neck.
Suppressing a shiver, Brad rolled over and pressed his face into Patrick’s neck. He breathed in the other man’s scent as his hands encountered warm skin. Brad practically purred when he felt Patrick’s hands start to run over his back. “Can I just stay here all day?”
“If that’s what you want, but I want you to eat something.”
“I seem to remember you saying that you were going to make me eggs.” Even though he was still devastated over his grandmother’s death, Brad felt a small smile cross his face. Patrick made amazing omelets. He wrapped one of his arms around Patrick’s back. “Could those eggs be in omelet form?”
Patrick chuckled. “Sure, Angel, I think I could manage that.”
Brad smiled against Patrick’s chest. He loved the feeling of Patrick’s arms around him. All he wanted to do was to stay in Patrick’s arms for the foreseeable future. It was at that moment that someone started knocking on the door. Brad groaned and buried his head in Patrick’s chest. “Can we ignore it?”
The knocking turned into pounding. “I don’t think so.” Patrick sighed and pulled away from Brad. “I’ll get it. You can stay here.” He gave Brad a squeeze and got out of the bed.
Brad watched as Patrick pulled his clothes back on. He had to smother a sigh as the tattooed skin was covered. Patrick getting out of bed was the last thing that he had wanted to happen. What he really wanted was for Patrick to make him an omelet and then cuddle with him until he felt better. He wanted that so badly his skin was actually tingling with the need. As he finished pulling on his jeans, Patrick turned back to face him once more, and Brad’s eyes were drawn to his lover’s sculpted chest.
The renewed pounding on his door snapped Brad out of his study of Patrick’s decorated body. Brad flushed and pulled a pillow over his face as he realized that Patrick had noticed his staring. Peeking around the edge of the pillow, Brad glanced at Patrick. He watched as Patrick shook his head with a fond smile and headed out of the bedroom. Once Patrick was out of the room, Brad removed the pillow from his face and stared at the ceiling. He could still feel the flush on his face. Brad doubted that the sight of Patrick in any state of undress would ever stop affecting him.
“Well, it’s about time that you opened the damn door!” The annoyed male voice was loud enough that Brad could hear it clearly. Of course, his house wasn’t that large.
“I’m sorry, I was sleeping.” The annoyance in Patrick’s voice was nearly as strong. “Now, who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Brad’s boyfriend.”
The fuck? Brad bolted out of bed and grabbed his pants from the floor. He pulled them on as he ran down the stairs. He skidded to a stop near the front door and took in the scene before him.
Patrick had his arms crossed over his chest. The stance made him look rather imposing. His eyes moved to Brad in a brief show of confusion before he turned back and leveled a glare at the intruder. The glare made Brad take a good look at the man attempting to force himself further into the house.
He was shorter than both Brad and Patrick, but he had more muscle mass. He was wearing a very expensive suit and his blond hair was neatly styled. Brown eyes were set in an artificially tanned face with a slightly prominent nose. He was a man that most would have normally called attractive, but standing next to Patrick, it was obvious that his good looks were not natural. Brad couldn’t believe that Dwight Richards was at his home. He hadn’t even thought that Dwight knew where he lived.
“You are not my boyfriend!”
Dwight turned to face Brad and gave him a bright smile. “Brad, buttercup, you don’t have to lie in front of your brother. I’m okay with him knowing that I’m your boyfriend.”
Brad fought the urge to pull at his hair in frustration. “First, you are not my boyfriend! Second, he’s not my brother.”
“Then who is he?” Dwight turned back to Patrick with an appraising look that had Brad fighting to keep from choking the other man.
“Patrick, my boyfriend.”
“Your what?” Dwight was starting to look decidedly less friendly than he had when he had arrived. The look he was sending Patrick was downright hostile. “You’re cheating on me?”
“We were never dating in the first place!”
“We had several dates and you never mentioned another man.”
“We never had any dates, Dwight. We went for coffee twice, after business meetings. I talked about Patrick the entire time!”
“You said that he didn’t live here and that you had broken up.”
Brad clenched his teeth in frustration. “No, I said that we were doing the long-distance thing. You really didn’t listen to a word that I said, did you?”
“Please, like I needed to listen. I knew what you really wanted!”
“And what was that?”
“To wrap those pretty lips around my cock, where they belong,” Dwight sneered. Brad was rooted to his spot in surprise. Dwight’s eyes danced between Brad and Patrick. “You’ll spread for him and not me? You’re a fucking cock tease, you little slut!” Brad could only watch in shock as Patrick’s fist connected with Dwight’s nose. There was a bright spray of blood as Dwight fell back against the door, clutching his nose. “Ow!”
“Get the fuck out,” Patrick snarled. He grabbed Dwight’s arm with his blood-spattered hand and pulled him far enough away from the door so that he could get it open.
“I think you broke my nose!” Dwight’s voice was slurred as he attempted to stop the flow of blood with his hand.
“Good. Get the fuck out.” Patrick pushed him out of the door and slammed it behind him. He turned his angry eyes to Brad. “Who the fuck was that?”
“That was Dwight.” Brad groaned and leaned against the wall. This cannot be happening.
“Dwight?” The name was practically a growl.
Shit, he’s angry. Need to calm him down before he remembers he has a gun upstairs. I really don’t want him to get arrested for murder. “I met him in Calgary. I’ve been working on a web page for an athletic company and he was the guy in charge of their advertising. I usually work from home, so I thought it would be a nice change to be able to have coffee with someone after business meetings. Now I’m starting to think it was a bad idea.”
“I think I’m going to agree with you,” Patrick remarked. Brad wa
s pleased to note that the anger was no longer on his voice. When Patrick walked over and wrapped his arms around him, Brad melted into the embrace. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Patrick sighed. “For snapping at you. I shouldn’t have done that. I just wasn’t expecting your other boyfriend to come to the door.”
Hearing the amusement in Patrick’s voice, Brad lightly punched him in the stomach. “Not funny.”
“Come on, Angel, we may as well have breakfast now that we’re up.” Patrick pushed slightly, and Brad found himself being propelled to the kitchen. He twisted around so he and Patrick were walking side by side. Patrick’s right arm slid around his waist, pulling him against the detective’s side.
“How’s your shoulder?” They had reached the kitchen, and Brad pulled away so he could look at the dated scar on Patrick’s shoulder. He ran his fingers over the injury that could have taken Patrick from him before they even met.
“Almost as good as new. Although, it does tend to sting a bit when I punch assholes in the face.”
“Didn’t look like you lost any of your hitting power.”
“I am in good shape.”
“I can see that,” Brad replied. He ran his fingers down the ripped muscles of Patrick’s abdomen. The skin under his hands felt different enough that he looked down. “In fact, I would have to say that you’re in even better shape than you were before. Which is weird since I saw you three weeks ago.”
“Well, I have been working out a bit.”
Brad cocked his head and gave Patrick an amused smile. “A bit?”
“Okay, fine, more than a bit.” He looked down, and Brad found himself smiling at the sheepish expression on Patrick’s face. “So maybe I was depressed and spent a lot of time hiding in my room and working out. Although most of that was before your visit. And Justine says that I mope less when I’m exhausted, so I’ve been hitting the gym again.”
“I missed you too,” Brad replied. He slid the hand that he had on Patrick’s stomach to one side so that he was gripping the slightly taller man’s hip. Patrick’s jeans hung low on his hips, so Brad was able to run his thumb over warm, smooth skin. He stepped fully into Patrick’s arms and rested his cheek against the strong, unscarred shoulder. He sighed happily as Patrick’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close.
Broken Wings Page 14