Page 75 of Paladin's Hope

“That is not required,” said Piper, his voice still clipped. “A gnole guided me in, but I can find my own way back.”

“It’s not safe,” said Galen to the man’s back.

Piper finally turned to look at him. His face was a cool, passionless mask. “It is not your concern, sir.”

Sir. Saint’s balls.

And now the damn fool wants to walk out and possibly get mugged because of ‘nothing of consequence.’

“Piper…”

“You’ve made it abundantly clear that you do not wish to see me. I am giving you what you require.”

“I’m not asking you to suck my cock. I’m trying to keep you from getting mugged.” Galen realized he was clenching his fists and consciously relaxed them. “Either I walk you to the river or I’m going to follow you to make sure you aren’t set on by footpads anyway. It’s less awkward if you just let me walk next to you.”

Piper’s lips thinned. Without speaking, he turned and strode away. Galen stretched his legs to catch up. “I see that civility is off the table, then.”

If he hadn’t been watching for it, he would not have seen Piper’s wince. “You are right,” the doctor said after a moment. “I am being rude. I apologize. You have done nothing wrong.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.”

“It was one night. No promises were made. You owe me nothing.”

“I could have chosen a better moment,” said Galen. “When we weren’t both half-dead.”

Piper shrugged. “Some things are best done quickly, I suppose.”

Galen should have felt better at that, but he didn’t. The silence between them was still fraught and horrible. They reached the area with the suspended boardwalks, still without speaking, and Galen felt the frustration bubbling in his chest like tar. They were going to reach the river and not say anything and then either one of them would say “goodbye” or one of them wouldn’t and it would be even worse.

Damn us both to the lowest of hells.

He had no right to be angry, and yet nothing of consequence still rang in his ears like a curse. It was his fault. He’d been the one to end their relationship before it had even really begun. He’d had to, because he was the fool who’d fallen in love.

It was all hurt pride, of course. He knew that. If you’re going to be all noble and self-sacrificing and immolate a chance at happiness on the altar of your own personal unworthiness, you hate to think that the sacrifice wasn’t actually worth anything.

“Have you made a report to the guard?” Piper asked, breaking into his thoughts. The doctor sounded almost normal, and perversely that made it worse, because maybe it really had meant nothing, if Piper was getting over it so quickly. Or perhaps he’s being kind again. That’s why it won’t work. Because he’s kind and you’re a murderous bastard, remember?

“Yes,” said Galen. It was his turn to sound clipped. “Have they contacted you?”

“No. I wondered if perhaps you had tried to leave my name out of it.”

Galen cast his mind back. “I mentioned you by name,” he said. “Perhaps they thought it was nothing of consequence.”

God, you really are a bastard.

Piper stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice chilly, “did I offend you by saying that? Would you prefer that I had flung myself at you and wept on your neck?”

Yes. “No, obviously not.”

Piper stopped walking. Galen took a step or two further, realized he’d stopped, and turned around.

“Just tell me what you want,” said Piper. The dark circles under his eyes were so pronounced that he looked half-gnole himself, and they were rimmed with red. Saint’s black and bloody tongue, has he been weeping? “Tell me what gets this over with so that we can stop thinking about it. Do we pretend nothing happened at all? Are we colleagues? Do we avoid seeing each other? Pick something and I’ll do it, but you’ll have to tell me what the hell it is you want, because damned if I know.”

His voice cracked on the last word and Galen took an involuntary step forward and put his arms around him.

Piper sagged against him and Galen felt the catch in the other man’s breath. But he also felt the width of Piper’s shoulders, the wiry muscle of his arms and chest, and a part of his heart he’d been trying to bury for days leapt up and began to sing.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, bending his head. He could see the dark curve of eyelashes on the doctor’s cheek, feel the shakiness of his breathing. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for any of this.”