Wild Angels

by Bethany Brown

  Jack and Julian seemed so in sync that if it weren’t for Julian’s choked-out pleas, Patrick wouldn’t have been able to tell which one of them had set up the slow, heady rhythm. Julian gritted his teeth, fists curling above Jack’s hands on his wrists, demanding to be released.

  “What’s the magic word?” he rumbled back. Patrick watched his lips caress Julian’s earlobe and shivered.

  “Oh, God, please—” Patrick fucking loved that tone of voice Julian got when he was close like this….

  Jack let go.

  Julian’s hands went immediately to his cock, his face contorted into a mask of pleasure, and then he let out an inhuman sound of pleasure as Jack sank his teeth into his shoulder, a rope of white shooting from the head of his dick and striping his chest.

  It was too much for Patrick, and he groaned, pumping his dick one last time as hot semen sprayed from the tip, splattering his own chest and stomach. Eyes closed, he could just hear the quieter sounds of Jack falling into orgasm beside him.

  Two sweaty, exhausted bodies collapsed next to Patrick’s on the bed. He made a mental note to thank Julian later for not squishing his shoulder. Julian kissed him briefly on the cheek. Where he got the energy, Patrick had no idea; he couldn’t have even thought of moving.

  The last thing he remembered was the feeling of a warm cloth on his stomach; then everything went dark.

  Chapter 9

  That was a bad idea.

  That was the thought running through Patrick’s head as he woke up with Julian curled next to him. Jack was on the other side of his lover, sleeping peacefully. Jack was curled around Julian, as if even in sleep he didn’t want to be parted from him. That sight sent a jolt through Patrick. He needed to get out of there.

  Moving slowly, Patrick crawled out of the bed. He made sure that the covers were around Julian before he left. He didn’t want Julian to get cold and realize that Patrick had gone. Julian moaned softly in his sleep and turned toward Jack. Patrick felt as if someone had stabbed him.

  Patrick made his way through the house to the guest room, picking up his discarded clothes along the way. Usually, the feel of the leather pants made him smile; this time, it just made him feel sick to his stomach. By the time he reached the guest room, he was shaking. He needed to have a shower. He could smell Jack and Julian on his skin, and it was making his stomach twist.

  Grabbing some clean clothes, Patrick walked as quickly as possible to the bathroom. He tossed his clothes on the counter, turned the water on with trembling hands, flipped up the lid of the toilet, and threw up. By the time he had tossed up everything he had eaten the night before and the dry heaves had finished, there was steam coming out of the shower.

  Shaking slightly, Patrick flushed the toilet, then climbed into the shower. He hissed in pain as the hot water hit him. He hurt. It wasn’t just the throbbing pain that was his shoulder—he was pretty sure he’d slept on it funny—his heart hurt. For the first time in his life, Patrick actually felt dirty after sex. Turning the water up to an almost scalding heat, Patrick washed himself as quickly as possible. He needed to get out of the house.

  Finishing his shower, Patrick toweled off, relieved himself, dressed, and brushed his teeth twice. When the taste of mint had covered the unpleasant taste of bile, he put his toothbrush away and left the bathroom. Patrick headed back into his room for a sweater and his phone. If he was going to go for a walk, he’d need something warmer than the T-shirt he was wearing. As he pulled a blue sweater on, his eyes landed on his suitcase. I wonder. He hadn’t traveled in a few years, so there was hope…. Rummaging through the pockets, he let out a triumphant grunt as he pulled out a half-full pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Thank God Cam didn’t go through this thing before he packed it.

  Cigarettes and lighter in hand, Patrick slipped into his boots, tossed on his jacket, and left the quiet house. Taking a deep breath of the fall air, Patrick stepped off the porch and started to walk. He waited until the house was out of sight before lighting up. The last thing he wanted was for Julian to catch him.

  He moaned as the first bite of nicotine hit his system. He could feel his shaking hands slow slightly. It had been a long time. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he dialed as he started walking toward town.

  “Hello?” The voice on the other end was groggy with sleep.

  “Keith?”

  “Patrick?” The voice suddenly became more awake. “What’s wrong?”

  “How do you know something’s wrong?”

  “Because you’re calling me from Alberta, where you’re supposed to be relaxing. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

  Patrick sighed and took another drag off the cigarette. “You know, I’ve always known that I was a slut, but this is a new low for me.”

  “Shit. What happened?”

  “I, ah, I sort of….” Was there any good way to say this? “I saw Jack and Julian… together.” Patrick could feel tears forming in his eyes. He’d spent the last ten years dreaming of what it would be like to have Julian in his arms again, but knowing he was with someone else was different from seeing him love someone so much firsthand. It felt like someone had run razor blades over his heart.

  “Okay, babe, this is going to sound like a heartless question, but why did you call me instead of Cam?”

  “Cam wouldn’t have understood what the problem was, since I had sex with him and Jeremy before I got shot. I mean, it’s not like I participated here.” Patrick’s hands shook on the cigarette.

  “But you were never in love with Cam or Jeremy. This was Julian. He was your first love.”

  “God.” Patrick flung the cigarette butt onto the street and kept walking. He knew he was crying now, but he didn’t care. There was no one around to see him. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to witness the proof that you will never be good enough?” Patrick gave a weak laugh. “You know, it never felt like this when he was with Richard and Derek. This feels different. The way they are together is different.”

  “I thought you wanted Julian to be happy?”

  “I do, it’s just… I thought it would be me, you know? I thought I would be the one he would end up with.” Patrick growled and tilted his head to the sky. “God, I sound like such a selfish prick.”

  “No, you sound like someone who’s been hurt. Shit, babe, I wish I could be there. You really sound like you could use a hug.”

  Patrick gave a watery laugh. “Yeah, I could. God, I just feel so sick with myself. There’s this guy. We went on a date, and he’s a really nice guy, and I want to see him again, but I feel so fucking guilty about last night, and I should, ’cause who the hell would want a fucked-up guy like me, and—”

  “Patrick! Calm down!”

  “How can I calm down? Julian apparently didn’t think that I was worth waiting for, how the hell am I supposed to think that someone else would? It’s been made perfectly clear to me that all I’m good for is sex!”

  “That is not true! Do you think that’s all I am? Do you think that I use people for sex?”

  “What? No, of course not!”

  “Then shut up for a minute and let me talk. Do you know why I come to you when I have a bad day? It’s not for the sex, which is amazing; it’s because I can count on you to hold me when I have a bad dream. I go to you for comfort, Patrick. You’re a good man. You deserve the chance to be happy. Don’t push it away because you think that you don’t deserve it.”

  “Keith, I don’t know what to do.” Patrick walked a few more steps, then a sharp pain ran down his leg. “Shit!”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s nothing, just a pain in my leg.”

  “What type of pain?”

  “It’s nothing, Keith.”

  “What type of pain?”

  Patrick sighed. His authoritative police-man voice never worked on Keith. “Sharp pain in my leg. It just shot right down my leg.”

  “What did you do last night?”

  “Keith, I thought we went over this
?”

  “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, Patrick. Did you do something last night that might have put too much strain on your back?”

  “Um.” Patrick went back over the events of the night before in his head. “I kind of maybe sort of tripped up the stairs. Jack caught me before I fell, though.”

  “Shit!”

  “Um, I’m not sure why you’re having such a problem with this.” Patrick was clumsy. He tripped all the time.

  “You got shot in the spine, Patrick. They assumed when they took the bullet out that you were never going to walk again, so I’m not sure how well they closed you up. Every time you jar your spine could be dangerous!”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I want you to have your physiotherapist call me.”

  “What?”

  “Hey, if you get to call me this early in the morning, I get to make demands. I expect a call tomorrow.”

  Patrick sighed. He knew that Keith was just worried about his well-being. “Fine, I’ll have her call you.”

  “Good. Is there anything else that you needed to talk about?”

  Patrick smiled at the concern in Keith’s voice. “No, that covers it.”

  “Patrick, you are a good man. Don’t let your doubts keep you from finding someone special.”

  “Thanks for listening.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Patrick disconnected with a sigh. Talking to Keith had helped a bit—at least he no longer felt like he was going to throw up again—but he still felt terrible. He was reaching for another cigarette when his phone started to ring. “Hawkins.”

  “Hey, Patrick, it’s Brad.”

  Patrick felt a smile cross his face, followed by another wave of guilt. “Hey there, Wilde Thing.”

  “Wilde Thing?”

  “I thought that you needed a nickname.” Patrick felt his stomach turn as Brad laughed. He so didn’t deserve this man.

  “I like it. I’m sorry that it took me so long to call, but I had to leave town. My brother is getting a divorce.”

  “I heard. Sorry about that.” Patrick smiled as he kept walking. “I missed you last night. I was looking forward to seeing you at the bar.”

  “So was I.” Brad cleared his throat nervously. “What are you doing right now?”

  “Right now? I’m walking.”

  “Do you want to join me for breakfast?”

  Patrick grinned at the phone. “Is this our second date?”

  “No, our second date is on Tuesday, when I take you out on a picnic. I just want to see you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Um.” Patrick stopped and took a good look at his surroundings. “I appear to be at the rec center.”

  “Okay, meet me at Brenda’s? I should be there in about ten minutes. I’m still on the road.”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  “Bye, Patrick.”

  “Bye, Brad.” Patrick disconnected and looked at the phone in his hand. He was having breakfast with Brad and they were going on a picnic on Tuesday. Maybe he would finally be able to stop feeling so worthless. Turning, Patrick headed down the street toward Brenda’s. He just hoped he didn’t look as horrible as he felt.

  “Hey.”

  Julian looked up at the smell of coffee and the sound of his lover’s voice and smiled, uncurling a little to make room on the porch swing. “Hey, yourself.”

  Jack sat beside him, handing over a glass of orange juice. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  Julian had been trying to work that out for himself all morning, ever since he’d woken up to find Patrick gone. All of his stuff was still in his room, which meant he hadn’t gone far, or at least was planning to be back, but he was worried.

  All right, he was heartsick. “I think last night was a mistake,” he sighed, leaning against Jack’s shoulder.

  Jack pressed a kiss to the top of his head, an almost absent gesture that made Julian love him all the more for the circumstances under which it was given. “How so?”

  He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “Do you remember when I told you, a long time ago, that I’d met someone on my eighteenth birthday? The man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with until I met you?”

  “You were young,” Jack soothed, leaning their heads together. “You didn’t know any better.”

  “That was Patrick,” Julian told him, shaking his head. “And it was that serious, at least for me. But Patrick wasn’t ready.” He curled his legs back under him again, needing the comfort of the position. “Jack, I don’t think we should have done that last night. I think he’s still… he is still a little bit in love with me.”

  Jack put down his coffee to wrap both arms around Julian, practically pulling him into his lap. Apparently, he wasn’t going to be allowed to escape so easily. “So?” he said gently. “Aren’t you still a little bit in love with him? You seem to be doing fine.”

  God, Julian should be so lucky, to have a lover who was so understanding. “It’s not the same. Yes, a part of me will always love him—but a bigger part of me, the biggest part of me, loves you. So while last night was a bad idea—and don’t say it wasn’t, I don’t care how great the sex was—in the end it doesn’t matter so much. I’m not going to fall apart over it, because I’ve got you to lean on. I have you….” He sighed again, scrubbing his eyes with one hand. “I have you to talk to about these things now. I am the one Patrick talks to. He doesn’t have anybody.” He felt terrible. For all intents and purposes, he’d just rubbed his best friend’s face in the fact that he, Julian, had moved on… while Patrick hadn’t.

  Jack just held him tighter. Julian felt the pressure in his chest reach an unbearable level, and then he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to let the tension flow out of him. Jack let him sit like that for a few more minutes and then kissed the top of his head again. “You want pancakes?”

  A tiny smile crept across Julian’s face. “You can’t make pancakes,” he teased. “You burn macaroni and cheese.”

  “That’s why I asked you,” Jack snuggled into his neck. “Nice, fluffy, buttery pancakes, with real maple syrup. Ooh, and breakfast sausage. What do you say?”

  “I love you,” Julian said, lacing his fingers together with Jack’s. “You’re insane, and you’re perfect, and I love you. Also, I’m starving, and you’d better pray there are breakfast sausages in the fridge.”

  Jack pulled him to his feet and they went back into the kitchen. Julian started pulling ingredients from the cupboards, brain on autopilot until he discovered the canister of flour was nearly empty. He went into the pantry to fill it, walking through the laundry room as he did so.

  There was a T-shirt on the floor, stained around the collar with about fifteen different colors of paint. It was obviously Patrick’s from his date with Brad—clearly, those coveralls didn’t cover as much as they claimed. The knot in Julian’s chest tightened, and he toed the garment into the dirty laundry basket.

  Patrick would be okay. He had to be.

  Brad parked his car in front of Brenda’s and took a deep breath. Patrick was waiting for him inside. Patrick, who had not sounded good on the phone, was waiting for him inside. He took a deep breath and got out of the car. He had to force himself to walk slowly in order to keep from running inside. He didn’t want to seem too eager.

  Patrick had been on his mind during the drive to and from his brother’s house. He kept replaying their date over and over again in his head. The entire day had been fun. Brad was surprised by how much he enjoyed being in the other man’s company. The kissing had been a nice bonus, but just being around Patrick was wonderful.

  He stepped into Brenda’s and looked around. He spotted Patrick right away. The detective was sitting at one of the tables, holding a mug of coffee in his hands. He looked up, and Brad found himself caught in green eyes. He smiled at the other man and saw a small smile cross Patrick’s face. Brad tried not to frown
at what he saw in Patrick’s eyes. The other man looked like he had been crying.

  Brad walked over and, without really thinking about it, he leaned across the table and pressed a soft kiss to Patrick’s lips as he sat down. “Hey.”

  “Hi.”

  Brad licked his lips, tasting coffee and a hint of Patrick. “Are you okay?”

  “Just had a long night.”

  “You sure that’s all?”

  “Do I really look that bad?” There was a hint of self-deprecating humor in his voice.

  Brad reached across the table and ran a finger down Patrick’s cheek. “I think you always look amazing, but right now you look a tad upset.”

  “I’m better now.”

  “Morning, boys,” Bess remarked. She was standing by the table, holding an order pad in her hand. “What can I get you?”

  “Could I get pancakes and bacon?” Patrick ordered.

  “Sure thing.” Bess jotted his order down on the pad and turned her attention to Brad. “What about you, Brad?”

  “Could I get an omelet with ham, mushrooms, and green olives?”

  “Sure. Do you want hash browns with that?”

  “That would be great.”

  “Anything to drink?”

  “Can I get a glass of orange juice?”

  “Sure.” Bess finished writing and turned back to Patrick. “Do you want some more coffee?”

  “That would be great.”

  “I’ll be back in a bit with your food,” Bess stated. She gave them both bright smiles, then headed off to the kitchen with their orders.

  Brad took a moment to study Patrick. He didn’t like what he saw. The pain lines around his eyes were deeper than they had been on Thursday. His eyes were slightly red and puffy, as if he had been crying, and he looked pale. “Patrick, are you sure that you’re okay?”