Page 27 of Down in Flames
“Do you know how hard it will be to find a ballcap in this mess?” Aiden grouched, picking his way down the embankment with a flashlight in hand. His expression was twisted up like he was rethinking some of his life choices.
“Easier than finding your ass once I’m done handing it to you,” Michael said.
West gave a strained chuckle.
They scrambled out of the pit together with Michael half-dragging both him and Celia. Their boots slipped in the muck, and West was forced to hook an arm around Michael’s waist to keep from sliding backward. Ridges of slick muscle shifted beneath his grip, making his palm tingle, and he was acutely aware of the sheer physical presence of the other man.
Kissing him had been a mistake. He’d spent so many years clinging to every scrap of self-control he could manage to wring out of himself, keeping his desire a low-key buzz in the background of his life. But now it was out of control. All it took was one look, one touch, one curl of his masculine scent, and heat incinerated him from the inside out.
“I think I’ll stick around and help Cal dig out another section,” Celia announced, dropping her hands on her knees to catch her breath once they were back on solid ground. “Unless you need help unloading that seed?”
“I can handle it,” West said.
She looked doubtful, but before she could open her mouth again, Cal dropped a soggy mud goblin in his arms.
“Looks like you lost this,” he said.
“Oh Christ, a puppy. Don’t let Abby see her,” Michael groaned.
“She belongs to Derek,” West said, cranking his head around to avoid her ecstatic puppy tongue. “I’m just watching her for the day if she’ll stop trying to eat me alive.”
“I wouldn’t hold that against her,” Michael said dryly. “Can’t say the same thought hasn’t crossed my mind a time or two.”
West’s eyes shot wide. Michael grinned, and that grin only widened when West tossed an anxious look over his shoulder. If anybody had overheard, they weren’t letting on. Cal and Celia were deep in discussion about the next digging spot, and all that was left of Aiden was muffled curses drifting over the lip of the pit.
“You can’t just say shit like that,” he hissed under his breath.
“Why not?” Michael's tone was mild, as if he really didn’t understand the dangerous game he was playing. “It’s nobody’s business.”
“They’ll make it their business! It’s not like choosing a damn breakfast cereal, Michael. Word spreads like wildfire in a town like this. Abby will be hearing about it at school. No matter what you said the other day, you can’t be ready for that.”
His breath had started to pick up pace, and he had to force his fingers to unclench on the puppy’s fur. His shoulder ached, and so did his chest, but not in any quantifiable way that warranted hopping on the phone with his cardiologist. His chest felt tight and squirmy, like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and the feeling intensified every time he thought about what Michael might be sacrificing on a whim.
Michael examined him with unnerving scrutiny. “Come on,” he said, gently palming the back of West’s head. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Maybe they did, but it didn’t happen in the truck. Somehow, they both seemed to sense it wouldn’t be an easy conversation, and they veered toward safer topics like the irrigation leak and the chance of coming snow. They had been friends too long for silences, and there was so much to catch up on.
A lump formed in West’s throat as he pulled into the work yard for the first time in too long. The house looked mostly the same except for a wrap-around porch made of raw lumber. The roof was new, and the fresh siding still needed a coat of paint, but the bones had survived mostly unscathed. He wondered what it looked like on the inside. Michael’s house had always been cheerfully dilapidated, warm and broken in, just like him. The few pieces of fine décor were Mary’s brief touch on the place, and her beaming portrait had sat prominently on the fireplace mantle. Had it survived, he wondered? What kind of lousy friend was he that he’d never even bothered to ask? The guilt of it nearly drove him to his knees.
He caught Michael by the arm before he could hop out. “I’m sorry.”
Michael cocked his head, puppy tucked under one arm like a football, and waited. He was good at that. His unending patience was part of what had drawn West to him in the first place.
West took a deep breath and swallowed his pride. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.”
“You had your reasons.”
“None worth a damn. I’m your friend. No matter what, I’m your friend, and I…I shouldn’t have let you face all this alone. It’s just that seeing you in that hospital bed nearly broke me, you know? I felt so useless, and I couldn’t face it.”
Michael’s lips curved in a ghost of a smile. “I’m a big boy, West. I can take care of myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose where a sting was brewing.
The rough, warm stroke of Michael’s palm against his cheek made him jump. His touch was fleeting, sliding around to the back of his neck and giving a gentle squeeze. It was so familiar, and West realized he’d been touching him like that for a long time now, but it had been so casual and easy that he’d never noticed.
“You can help now by giving me a hand with all this grass seed,” Michael said with a chuckle. “Between the two of us, we almost make a whole person. But put your sling on first.”
“I’m fine without it.”