Follow Him Home (Alternate Worlds Book 1)

by P. W. Davies

  “Yeah, I remember him.” Chloe frowned at the screen. As Peter leaned in, reading over her shoulder, she typed the name into the search box and pressed enter. “What has you curious about him?”

  “If I said something about him didn’t sit right with me, would you believe me?”

  “Not on that basis alone, but considering this isn’t normal practice for you, I’ll indulge you.” Chloe shot him a quick glance, eyebrow arched. “What is it, honey?”

  Peter sighed. “It’s my boyfriend, Christian. This guy was after him during one of our dates.”

  “After him?” Her head tilted, brow still creased. “Is this something that should’ve been reported to the police?”

  “Not really. It’s complicated.”

  “We’re not going to be slipping any information to this boyfriend of yours?”

  “You’ll have to trust me when I say I don’t want him in worse trouble.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Chloe stepped back from the computer. As Peter’s hand fell from her shoulder, it settled to his side, giving her the chance to pat his arm while walking past. “Give me back my card when you’re finished,” she said in parting, adding, “You have five minutes,” only once she had placed a few steps between them. Peter smiled, watching the nurse stroll away, then turned his attention to the screen.

  “Five minutes,” he repeated as he started to read.

  The Mark Talbot in question wasn’t the first in their records. Others with various middle initials filled the screen, with their dates of admission and boxes to click for further information. Peter scrolled until one who had been discharged only two days prior showed up on the list, opting to select that one and wait for his information to load on the screen. Ignoring the insurance information and vital statistics, he scanned for anything else of note and stopped when he reached the home address Talbot had provided.

  “Exeter, Devon,” Peter said. “England. Shit.” Pulling Chloe’s card from the reader made the screen disappear, sending it back into the login screen as he strode toward where the nurse had disappeared. As he did, he swore under his breath. Finding anything useful had been a long shot, but it confirmed what Peter had begun to suspect.

  A simple, “Thank you,” with no added explanation accompanied him handing Chloe back her employee badge. He announced his intention to go on break and disappeared down into the cafeteria, depositing enough coins into a machine to have it produce something resembling coffee. Sitting with his cell phone, he tapped out a message as he sipped from the cup.

  ‘Don’t expect that you’re awake,’ he typed, ‘But when you get this, could you let me know if you’re free at all today.’ As he hit send, he thought about Victor, reliving his moments with him in flashes of vignettes as he pocketed his phone. Once he’d polished off his coffee – or as much as his stomach would let him – he returned to work, though when his phone finally buzzed, it took his focus away from paperwork.

  ‘I have time before a meeting this morning. Another breakfast date?’ Victor responded.

  ‘Sounds good. I’m off work at 6.’ Setting his phone aside, he continued writing notes on a patient file, stealing only a quick glance at the screen when it lit with Victor’s response. It contained a simple, ‘See you then,’ which distracted Peter for the remainder of his shift. He thought about his talk with Robin while his heart sped and stomach tangled into knots. This time, getting in over his head would carry so much more weight, his eyes open even further than they had been when he took Christian’s hand.

  At this point, there’d be no denial left to cushion him.

  Peter dismissed the idea the moment it entered his head, lest he overthink it. Once the clock read six, he changed in the locker room and splashed some water on his face to look presentable. Emerging from the front doors of the hospital, he spied Victor within seconds, seeing the well-dressed man staring at his phone until he looked up to engage Peter. When the taller man reached earshot, Victor straightened his posture and adjusted the wool coat protecting his three-piece suit. “I wasn’t sure how punctual to expect you to be,” he said.

  “Some shifts run smoother than others,” Peter said. Victor looked away to pocket his phone, but as he did, Peter bent. The moment the other man peered back up, his lips had been captured in a kiss, an action that took Victor by surprise. He sunk into the kiss with slow immersion and by the time it ended, whatever tension had been present beforehand had been replaced with something much different.

  “What did I do to deserve that?” he asked, his voice a whisper.

  “I don’t feel like saying just yet. You just did.” Peter smiled, brushing his thumb across Victor’s cheek before standing straight and sobering. As he peered toward the parking lot, he cinched the backpack holding his scrubs further up his shoulder. “We have to talk about something. Just not here.”

  “Is it something that can be discussed in public?”

  A tinge of a smile returned to Peter’s lips. “Probably someplace where there’s a decent amount of other people there,” he said, his gaze returning to Victor. His eyebrow arched. “Already guessed it has to do with a certain someone?”

  “Considering how we ended our last discussion…” Victor said, his words trailing off with an apologetic smile making only a quick appearance. Nodding, he gestured toward the east end of the parking lot while producing his car keys. “We’ll save it for over breakfast, then.”

  Peter returned the nod and walked with Victor to his car. Along the way, Victor reached for Peter when able to drive one-handed, interweaving their fingers and holding onto the other man until the next time traffic demanded both hands. Peter felt the message being conveyed. ‘Thank you for reconsidering.’ Once more, his heart flipped, lodging in his throat to stop him from saying too much too soon. They made it inside one of the nearby diners and seated in a booth before either spoke another word.

  “This seems like it’ll suffice for a private conversation,” Victor said, removing his coat and placing it at his side. As he adjusted his shirt cuffs, Peter stripped his coat off as well and settled into his seat. Something in Victor’s eyes suggested nervousness, though the other man had a hard time reading what – if it was the tense way they’d parted last time or the subject matter Peter wanted to discuss. Peter wondered if it might be both as a waitress took their drink order and left them to peruse the menu.

  The way Victor lifted his menu and read from the options also spoke of his desire not to linger on their last meeting. As he spent a few moments collecting himself, Peter gave him the chance to do so in silence, opening the laminated and spiral-bound collection of pages and settling almost immediately on eggs and pancakes. He shut the menu and set it aside while waiting for their coffee. “I think this looks like a good spot,” Peter said. “I was glad you suggested breakfast. Both because I’m hungry and, because I wasn’t sure if it’d be polite to bother you at work.”

  “I can think of better ways of introducing you to my co-workers,” Victor said. As his chestnut irises shot from the page to Peter’s face, the other man read hope in the expression, but again, Victor decided against recognizing it. Instead, he cleared his throat and took an additional moment to make up his mind, shutting the menu, too, once he’d settled on something. “Besides,” he added, “I usually like keeping Christian’s business away from mine.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still trying to wrap my head around all of that.”

  “That you’re willing to try, though.” A much brighter smile hinted at the corners of his lips and though the waitress arrived with their drinks before he could say anything else, the fledgling happiness remained present throughout them placing their order and drinking the first sips of their coffee. Victor folded his hands on the tabletop afterward and Peter rested against the back of the booth.

  “So, tell me,” Victor said, “what did you want to discuss?”

  The words flowed easier from Peter’s mouth than he expected they might, buttressed by a
n attempt at recreating the night they’d raced from Christian’s bar. As he unfolded the narrative, Victor nodded, and only when the waitress arrived with their orders did the explanation pause. Once she’d delivered their plates, Peter unrolled the napkin surrounding his silverware, his mind dividing between acknowledgment of food and finishing his story. “So, I decided to look him up,” Peter said, “and it turns out Mark Talbot’s from Exeter, England.”

  Victor tensed. As he laid his napkin across his lap, his gaze fell to his meal, examining it as a focal point. “He refused to say none of this was related to home,” he said, “but he’s been very evasive on the subject.”

  “Is what he said the other night, true? Does he really worry about us getting hurt somehow if we meddle too much in his world?”

  “Yes, I promise you, he does. At the same time, some of that is his way of not talking about the subject.” Victor smirked knowingly, glancing at Peter before concentrating on cutting a piece from his pancakes. After swallowing the bite of food, he sighed and sat against the back of the booth. “He’s never going to let this go. It’s one of the reasons why he left England.”

  “Does this have something to do with his father’s murder? I thought he… took care of that.”

  “I think he wishes he had. All of this makes sense of why he’s been acting a little flightier than usual.”

  Peter raised an eyebrow and Victor frowned, cutting into his meal again. “Flightier?” Peter asked.

  “He’d been around more often, until just before he brought you home. At first, I wondered if you had him preoccupied and then, you told me where you’d met.” Victor mirrored the raised brow, maintaining it while pausing to chew a bite. “He told me he’d been careless on his motorcycle. I didn’t completely believe that, for the record.”

  “Considering I’d actually met him a few days before that, when he walked in needing stitches.”

  “And he did return home afterward, though, for that, he blamed work.”

  “He hasn’t come clean with the truth yet?”

  “No. I’ve discovered Christian leaves breadcrumbs and will give you the rest of the puzzle when he’s willing. Maybe I’ve become too patient over the years with him, but he’s never failed to disclose his problems if I give him enough time.” Victor met Peter’s eyes again. As he turned his next words around in his head, his expression shifted and Peter watched as something seemed to occur to the other man. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Victor lifted a hand, forcing him to pause.

  “It’s nothing,” Victor said.

  “That didn’t look like nothing,” Peter said. “No offense.” Sliding his plate to the side, he set his utensils down and leaned forward in his seat. Reaching forward, he took hold of Victor’s hand when the other man set down his fork as well. It took a moment for Victor to relax, his eyes shifting from the tentative union of their hands to Peter’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Peter added. “I’m not trying to stir the pot, I swear.”

  “No.” Victor took a deep breath, his fingers tightening their grip. “You aren’t. It only occurred to me one of the reasons why he brought you home.”

  This time, his gaze became more deliberate, bearing a soul-deep form of bittersweet melancholy. As Peter struggled to interpret it, the allusion became clearer and once he’d sorted out Victor’s intent, Peter shook his head. “No,” Peter said. “I don’t believe for a moment that he brought me home just so he could leave you a consolation prize.”

  “You are far more than that.”

  Victor’s words made his heart flutter, tying his stomach into knots. “Still,” Peter fought to say, “Even if I’m insurance, this is where he wants to be. I can’t tell you how I know that. I just do.”

  It took a moment for a smile to disrupt the shadow which had overtaken Victor’s countenance. As his other palm cupped their joined hands, his expression softened while his chestnut eyes refused to waver. ‘I think I love you,’ Peter wanted to say, the words getting lodged in his throat. ‘I think I love you both and I don’t know what to do with that.’ “He wants to be with you,” Peter settled on, instead. “He wants to be with us both. I have a feeling he’s just in way over his head.”

  Victor nodded. Another deep breath restored order to his composure and as he released his hold on Peter’s hand, he attended to their meal again. “So, what do you suggest we do?” he asked.

  “I doubt messaging him would get us anywhere.” When Victor shot him a wary look, Peter nodded. “Yeah, definitely wouldn’t get us anywhere. Is there something we could do to find out more about this Mark Talbot guy?”

  “Maybe. I can make a few calls while I’m at work.” He raised an eyebrow. “Give me today to sort that out. Do you work tonight?”

  “I’m covering a shift tonight to make up for the one I didn’t show up to. But I have tomorrow night off.”

  “That should give me plenty of time, then.” Nodding toward Peter’s plate, Victor smirked. “I can take you home when we’re finished breakfast.”

  Exchanging the smirk, Peter pulled his plate closer and resumed eating. The sensation of a foot nudging his interrupted him halfway through the meal, and though it startled him at first, the wry grin on Victor’s face became contagious, as did whatever mood had consumed his thoughts. The strange confluence of playfulness and concern looped around in Peter’s thoughts, mixed with the fatigue from work. By the time they finished and paid for breakfast, the days’ worth of emotional duress had seeped into his bones and taken up residence there.

  He hadn’t meant for it to be more than a kiss. When Victor parked near the apartment building, Peter unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned close, noses brushing and breath caressing skin before their lips met. The intensity of the kiss that followed, however, spoke poetry to his soul, penned by the other man as Victor kissed him like he had given up hope of ever doing so again. His fingers touched Peter’s cheek, caressing down to the other man’s neck and as Victor’s palm settled on the back of his head, Peter parted from the kiss, nearly breathless. “When do you have to be at work?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

  “I have a couple of hours,” Victor said, “if I don’t mind being late.” He pushed forward, heedless of any reservation either of them might have had with getting swept up. The next kiss bore a voracious hunger to it and as Peter reacted, it only encouraged him. Peter leaned into him, nearly toppling into the driver’s side, and spurring enough levity for them to pause.

  “This might be better up in your apartment,” Victor offered.

  “I’m starting to think you might be right,” Peter said. Still, he ran his hand along the other man’s chest, plunging into another sound meeting of their lips before forcing himself into retreat. Victor licked his lips, his gaze darkening, and as the unspoken mutual decision was made, they opened their doors almost in unison. Peter held the front door open for Victor. He led the way up the stairs and rummaged for his keys, almost dropping them in the effort to find the right one. Once he’d unlocked the door, he twisted the knob, granting them both passage inside.

  But when the door shut behind them, neither man held back.

  Victor pressed Peter against the nearest wall. His backpack hit the ground with a thud, the keys Peter had been holding falling on top while the two resumed their desperate, searching kisses. Stripping his suit jacket, Victor tossed it to the side while Peter pulled his shirt over his head. They reconnected while Victor worked at the buttons of his vest and as they stumbled together into the living room, they gradually disrobed.

  The vest joined the path of breadcrumbs leading to the stairs. As Peter unfastened the buttons of Victor’s shirt, the other man reached for Peter’s jeans, working them undone as his shirt fell open at the sides. Running a hand up Victor’s chest, Peter claimed greedy purchase of the exposed skin, feeling up the other man’s back and using his hold to pull Victor flush against him.

  “I want you inside me,” Peter breathed, his voice thick with lust. “Make love to me.”
>
  Victor peered up at Peter, a momentary form of sobriety evident in his gaze before his stack of thoughts toppled to the ground. While their actions had already bordered on manic, their remaining senses worked toward a common goal as their eyes shut, fingers shedding what little clothing remained. Together, they stumbled for the stairs, hitting the wall adjacent first and grinding their bodies, like mutual pleasure wouldn’t be able to wait. Victor reached between them, taking their cocks both in his hand and stroking them together.

  Peter felt his knees turn weak. He broke the kiss, still feeling the sensation of Victor’s tongue touching his, and produced a wanton moan, not caring how loud. His hands both dipped to cup Victor’s backside, short nails digging in, and as he threw back his head, his body undulated in time with the strokes. “I’m n-n-n-not going to last long if you keep doing that,” he stuttered, the words falling in discordant staccato. When Victor released their cocks from his grip, he pushed Peter toward the stairs. Together, the two fumbled to ascend.

  Two strong hands threw Peter onto his bed. He bounced on the mattress, interrupted only when Victor climbed on top of him and resumed stroking. “Where…?” Victor asked.

  “Nightstand. Under my clock,” Peter said, understanding the question. While the other man pulled away, Peter felt his body buzz, the separation painful enough to make Peter reach between his legs and touch himself. As he tugged on his shaft, he turned his head to focus on Victor, seeing the other man remove the lube from the drawer before his darkened gaze settled on Peter’s actions. Rendered mute, he crawled closer and as his fingers plunged into Peter, a moan lilted past the other man’s lips. Slowly, they filled Peter. And when Victor deliberately curled his digits, a flash of stars filled Peter’s line of vision, with him crying out again.

  It became a mercy when Victor replaced his fingers with the head of his cock. Peter stopped stroking, his hand shaking and falling to his side while his toes flexed, heels bracing to give Victor more leverage. The other man slid inside further and with one final snap of his hips, was inside Peter. Their eyes met, Peter clinging onto Victor as Victor did the same. While his vision fell out of focus several times, they struggled to maintain eye contact throughout their coupling.