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Will twisted his face into the pillows wanting to yell his frustration. Heath wasn’t attracted to him the way he was to Heath, and yet he had to say things like that. Things that made him feel all, well, good inside. He scrunched the corner of his pillow in his hand and slowly breathed out.
Stop thinking about how much your heart is screwed! There were bigger things at issue here. Like whatever fear it was Heath didn’t want to get over.
Rearranging himself on his back, he stared at the dark ceiling and whispered. “If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” And probably fall for you even more. Garrgh! He shouldn’t be here. This was a bad move. A very, very bad move.
Heath let out a heavy breath, snatching back Will’s attention. Not that he didn’t have it before. The guy always had his attention.
“I can’t talk about it,” Heath finally said.
“Can’t or don’t want to? Not that it’s any of my business.” Oh but boy did he want it to be. “But maybe I just . . . could I help?”
Heath turned onto his back and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I’ve talked about it to Rory. He says it’s a stupid fear to have because it’ll never happen. But I think that’ll only be the case so long as I’m afraid. That way I’ll always make sure. . . .”
Will wished he’d be more specific, because it didn’t any sense to him, but he heard the earnestness in Heath’s voice and felt a pang of sympathy for him when, at the end, Heath’s voice cracked.
“I’m—” Glad? Annoyed? Jealous? Relieved? “I mean, it’s good you have someone you can talk to.”
Even if he didn’t like that someone.
Heath turned his head toward him, the slightest glint in his eyes. “You really hate the guy, don’t you?”
“Hate’s a bit strong. I just haven’t seen what you do in him.” Though that wasn’t quite true, was it? He had seen Rory’s protectiveness of Heath and his family when he’d—rightly—showed him up for being a bit of a prick himself. “He doesn’t like me much either, so it’s a mutual dislike.”
“Once upon a time, I didn’t like him that much, either.”
“And that changed how? I could use the tip.”
He fingered the bed clothes, pulling them up higher onto his chest.
“With William’s death,” Heath said, and Will closed his eyes, wishing like hell he’d shut up.
He heard Heath twist again and he screwed his lids shut tighter. That was twice he’d made Heath turn his back to him. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Warm air hit his face and he opened his eyes to Heath raised on one elbow looking down at him. Heath lowered his gaze to Will’s chin.
“Rory was William’s best friend. They were practically inseparable through college and the first year of uni. They got up to all sorts of stupid shit together, nothing harmful, just stupid.”
Heath shook his head, his lip twitching in fondness.
“Like trying to burn a sofa on the corner of Dundee Street after getting wasted. They were party boys, that’s for sure. But while they loved the chaos of throwing keg parties, they were real socialites. They made sure everyone was having a good time—they always made everyone feel welcome and like they really enjoyed their company. I liked that about them even if I wasn’t so keen on the parties.”
Will mirrored Heath, propping himself up on an elbow as he listened.
“Rory used to piss Mum off like you wouldn’t believe, but she always had a soft spot for him too, though she’d never have admitted it back then. And Rory was a cheeky toad to my mum, but he loved her, too.”
Heath sighed, twisting his foot around the sheets until he was only half-covered.
“Then—then William died. It was a huge, huge shock to us. We were all so lost and at first it didn’t feel real. I kept expecting William to walk into the kitchen one morning and say ‘gotcha’.”
Heath’s free hand kneaded the comforter between them and Will placed his hand on top, squeezing. I’m here for you.
“For a couple of months, every morning I’d race up to his room to double check. Of course, he was never there. The last day I ever checked, I threw open the door and my heart flipped—actually flipped—because he was in his bed, his toes poking out the end, the blankets shuddering, rising and falling. Alive! I thought. And so I whipped the duvet off him and found, not my brother, but Rory, sobbing.”
With a yank, Heath pulled the bedclothes over his other leg and started twisting his foot again.
“‘I just needed to smell him again’ he said when he saw me. And that’s the moment I knew for sure he was never coming home. That William was gone forever. And I cried with Rory, inhaling every last bit of my brother I could out of his duvet. And we hugged each other so damn tight, each of us trying and failing to fill the space where William should have—should have been.” Heath’s voice broke and he dropped his head onto the pillow, blinking rapidly.
Will shuffled closer to Heath and, letting go of his hand, wrapped an arm around him, rubbing circles on his back. He could feel tears prick at his eyes as he imagined the scene between Heath and Rory. Then Rory’s words as he told Will off came back to him with new meaning: You left. Without explaining. Without saying goodbye. You just left. . . . When your best-fucking friend in the world leaves without a goodbye—it fucking kills you.
Will’s hand gripped on Heath’s upper arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“It hit Mum and Dad the hardest. They split after the High Court sentenced Chris Aply to three years in prison for manslaughter. Mum felt it wasn’t enough.”
“Did you think it wasn’t enough?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes yes, sometimes no. But Dad said it was far too long for the young man. Dad was angry at Mr. Aply, absolutely, but he was more forgiving than the rest of us. I think Mum drove him to leave. She was devastated, depressed, and she always looked away whenever Dad would walk into the room. And it hurt Dad because he loved her so much and wanted so badly to make her better, but he couldn’t. I think I get it, though, William was practically a spitting image of him. Just a younger version. I think it just hurt too much.”
Will sighed. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain the Wallaces had struggled through.
“Once Dad left, it was just me and Mum, and I was struggling keeping it together. Rory, though, after that morning in William’s room, he started coming by every day. He took Mum to her therapist and on the days she didn’t have to go, he walked with her out to a café while I cleaned the house and did the shopping. He even cooked sometimes, too. Whenever we needed something, he was there.”
Heath’s hand had found its way around Will and, without realizing, it seemed, was now playing with the tips of his hair.
“I don’t know when exactly it happened, but gradually Rory and I became friends.” He stopped the sweet touches on his hair and focused on Will, meeting his eyes. “It doesn’t mean I like everything he does or says or everything about him, but he was there for me, for my mum, for us all the whole time, so I think I’ll love him anyway.”
Before Will could respond, Heath continued, “And it hasn’t been easy for him, he really misses William, too. Like that keg party he threw a while back that you were at, he keeps trying to find his balance without William, but he just can’t.”
Oh. Suddenly it made sense why Rory had lunged at him that night. It had nothing to do with him being gay. Shit. It was because he’d insulted his party—insulted him and William.
“I think, maybe, I don’t dislike Rory now, either,” he said slowly. “Not saying I’m a fan or anything, but, I like you and your mom. I—uh—I respect him for helping you guys.”
Heath laughed. It was short and unexpected but oh-so sweet. “Fan? Please, no. You can dislike him. He doesn’t like you, so you’re all good. I just wanted you to know why I like him. Could you give me back the other half of my pillow? I have to have my own when I sleep.”
He thought back to Candice the comforter hog. “As long as you share your blankets.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll stay warm in my bed.”
“Oh I will, will I?”
Not that he tried.
Heath answered with a soft chuckle. And that was that, their heart-to-heart was over.
After moving back to his side of the bed, he let out a yawn.
Heath sniggered. “Thought it was Murky for a sec. Hope you’re not a loud sleeper.”
“Hey, you’re the one who insisted I crash with you.” But I’m the one who agreed to torture myself.
“Huh. Well, I didn’t think about snoring then.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Thank God.”
“Much.” A cheeky grin pulled at his lips. “But I’ve no decorum when it comes to drooling and gas. I soak pillows, and, just as a warning, keep the blankets locked down.”
Heath laughed. “Haha. Well that goes both ways.”
“Ugh.”
“It is what it is. Open a window if you like.”
“What? You’re serious?” That was just a little too much information if it was true. Oh gross, Heath hadn’t meant that’s how he’d stay warm, had he?
Heath swiveled to face him. “Right I’m serious. Let’s just get this out of the way now so it doesn’t have to be a problem again. You do it. I do it. There’s no controlling that stuff. I’m not chronic or anything, just normal. I don’t care. So just relax.”
“This is a freaking weird conversation.”
“Yeah, well, you farted it.”
He cracked up, feeling himself relax. This was nice. Not just the mattress under him, but how comfortable it was being next to Heath. It was a place, he realized, that he really felt good about being himself.
God. He was so screwed.
He’d deal with it. Definitely.
Tomorrow. . . .
* * *
Yes, he slept like the dead. Yes, it was the best he’d had in weeks. Yes, he woke snug against Heath’s back, arm draped across his middle. No, it wasn’t intentional. But damn, yes, he knew he had to move it—and himself!—out of the bed and away from Heath pronto.
He was too warm and smelled too freaking irresistible.
Not to mention the fact he was falling for this guy Big Time—which really couldn’t happen. He needed to pull out the stops to distance himself. He’d been down this road before and his heart had only just mended, it wasn’t fair to be risky with it again.
Especially when he knew Heath wasn’t interested in him. But there was potential for something just as great between them.
They could be friends.
He stifled a groan and the pang and hollowness that came with the thought. Friends. That should be something great. But, he didn’t really feel it. Hard to when clouded by disappointment.
He slipped out of bed quietly, watching Heath for any movement and pausing whenever he did. Stealthily as he could, he slipped into last night’s clothes.
When he zipped up his jeans, Heath stirred.
He froze, breath held until Heath was still once again. Then tip-toeing, he sneaked to the door.
“If you even think of opening that door, you’ll regret it,” came Heath’s voice, soaked in warning.
Heath was still draped across his side of the bed, one arm hanging over the edge. Had he feigned sleeping?
“Step back from the door and get your arse back into bed.”
Will cleared his throat, finally in control of himself again. “You’re better at faking sleep than you are reading.”
“I don’t hear you coming back here.”
“Not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is. No sane person gets up at five.” He twisted toward him and threw a hand to the free side of the bed and patted. “Get in here or I’ll set Murky on you.” A wicked grin quirked his lips.
“Bastard.”
The grin widened. “It’s five in the freaking morning. I’m always a shit this early. Get used to it.”
“Stop talking like this is ever going to happen again.”
“It is.”
Will refused to acknowledge the thrill that buzzed through him hearing that. And Heath’s next words reminded him why it was a good idea:
“You don’t have anywhere proper to live. And until you do . . .” He patted the bed.
It was so freaking hard not to leap onto the bed next to him. But that wasn’t exactly helping to put the distance between them.
“I need the bathroom.” Which was true. It was not a pressing need, but . . . surely Heath couldn’t object to that.
Heath groaned, pulling himself into a sitting position. His hair was rumpled and gorgeous in the faint morning light and his blue eyes looked dazed and still half-asleep. He threw back the covers and stumbled to his feet. “Let’s make this quick then.”
Heath escorted Will inside the house to the bathroom, where he waited in the hall. The guy was still scowling when he was finished.
“Don’t move,” he warned to him before hurrying in to do his business. Once he came out, a hand locked around his bicep and Will was dragged back to the hut and dumped onto the bed.
“Now get yourself a bit more shut-eye and don’t even think about sneaking off again.”
Well this was no good at all. He fell back onto his pillow and stared at the wooden skirting around the ceiling—like a buffer between it and the wall. A buffer like he needed to create with Heath.
“Why aren’t your eyes shut?” Heath grumbled.
“Because I’m thinking.”
“This early? Crap, you’re worried about us and last night, aren’t you? Look, we were both drunk. And nothing happened in the end. It’s all good.”
Will didn’t correct him to say he wasn’t drunk—he hadn’t had a drop to drink last night—it was better for Heath to believe he was, believe that was the reason he’d been so willing to go further with him. He really didn’t need Heath knowing he had a thing for him.
He internally groaned. God no.
“But I’m sorry about coming onto you anyway,” Heath added.
He pulled out a laugh and couldn’t help himself from fishing just a little bit. “Yeah. ’Cause it’s not like in the sober light of day you are attracted to me that way.”
A pause. “Right. Though it’s not the light of day yet, so would you please go back to sleep?”
Wrong answer.
“Besides,” Will found himself saying, lying in an effort to create more distance, “I have a thing for Eric. So it’s good we didn’t.”
Heath’s eyes pinged open. “Eric?”
“Yeah, I mean, whoa—the guy’s hot, and he looks a little intimidating, but he’s a right softie.”
“Eric?” Heath repeated.
“Of course I want to do it right with him, do the dates and everything before we, you know.”
“Fuck? Have sex? Make love?”
Will squirmed. “Ah, yeah. It’s, usually, a rule of mine to wait three weeks before I have sex with someone. So, thanks for dragging me back here last night. Might have gotten a bit too tempting otherwise.” He forced a yawn, and tried not to think that in fact it’d been far too tempting here—for a blessed moment, it’d been that close. Oh the hypocrisy. “Hmm, I am feeling a bit sleepy again.” He shut his eyes and twisted his back to Heath. “Night. Sorta.”
A firm pressure clamped around his arm and pushed him onto his back. Heath stared down at him; suddenly looking very, very awake. His eyes narrowed and roamed over him as if there was something to read there.
Their eyes locked for a few long moments and Will tried and failed not to make out the different grains in his irises. The outer rim was a much darker blue, brightening toward the middle. Will’s gaze slipped to the little dent on his nose—so perfectly smooth. And God, his lips were just begging to be taken advantage of. He darted his gaze to the side, to stare at the ruffled cream curtains.
“Eric?” Heath said again.
Will cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
Heath pulled back, nodding. His head hit the pillows and in a cheery voice, he said, “Sleep well, Will. Dream of Eric. I’m sure it’ll work out for you two. You’ll be very happy together.”
“You don’t even know him.”
Will made out a small twitch of Heath’s lips. “That’s what you think. Now shut up and snooze.”
* * *
Heath drove Will out to Sig’s to pick up his clothes and dragged him straight back to the Wallaces’. Well, straight back after a pit stop to have an ice-cream at the beach, which Heath claimed did wonders for his hangover.
After a long overdue shower, Will felt fresh and revived. Maybe too revived. Because his clear head was spinning reasons at him why he shouldn’t still be there, lounging on the sofa, shooting shit.
He said point-blank he wasn’t attracted to you. He’s encouraging your made-up crush on Eric. The fact he stole your ice cream to lick around the cone so it wouldn’t drip on your fingers didn’t mean anything.
Oh, but it did. No one not even a smidgeon interested would do that.
Right?
“. . . so, what do you think?” Heath’s eyes were steady on him from the other end of the couch, one cute eyebrow raised.
Will blinked, debating for a second if he should bullshit an answer or admit he hadn’t heard him. “Um . . .”
Vicky entered the room, keys jangling in one hand, two weighty-looking bags in her other.
“Oh, hey, Mom,” Heath said, lurching up from the sofa and grabbing the shopping from her.
Vicky caught sight of Will sitting across from her, and he gave a half-wave. “William! You’re here already, how wonderful. I wasn’t expecting you until later.”
Heath had disappeared, but his voice curled around the door from the kitchen. “We’re not staying, Mom. I’m taking him to Benny’s for a bit. We’ll be back in time for tea—”
The phone rang in the background.
Vicky planted herself next to him, kicking her shoes off and resting her head against the back of the sofa. “Much better. The one at Dr. Helby’s digs into my back. I wonder if it’s on purpose. Get us talking faster and out of there quicker.”
“Or maybe you’re just spoiled with this one,” he said, patting the arm of the plush sofa.
She smiled, but it looked somewhat melancholic. “Was me and Greg’s twenty-fifth anniversary gift to ourselves.”
Heath re-entered the room and handed her the phone. “It’s”—he glanced at him—“It’s Dad.”
“Well speak of the devil,” she said softly as she took the phone and left the room.
Heath shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I think I can guess what’s going through your mind.”
“That I’m trying to figure out who Benny is and why we are going to visit him?”
He frowned and glanced behind him at the route Vicky had taken. “Oh, okay. I thought—never mind.”
He knew exactly what Heath had thought, because his Dad and Vicky had been the bigger curiosity, but it didn’t feel right to ask Heath about it right then. Not in the living room with Vicky less than ten steps away. Later. If he was willing to talk.
He raised a brow. “So? Who is this Benny?” And should I be jealous?
“An . . . well, an old crush turned friend?”
“Was that a question? Am I supposed to answer for you?”
Heath yanked on his arm, pulling him off the couch. “Shuddup.”
Will stumbled to his feet, bracing himself momentarily against Heath’s chest before pulling back. “Shuddup? No good at comebacks, are you?”
“No. But I’m great at following through.”
“What does that mean? You going to make me ‘shuddup’?”
“Keep talking and you’ll find out.”
“I have to say. I’d love to see where this goes.”
“Sure you would,” Heath said, locking an arm around his neck and noogie-ing his head.
He feigned hurt, rubbing his head. “Ow. Huh. Maybe I don’t then.”
Heath grinned, and with a wave to Vicky on the phone, they headed out.
In Sally, the Holden Commodore deathtrap, Heath buckled him in with the butt of a drink bottle. “The reason we are going, which you’d know if you’d been listening to me before—”
“What? I was—” listening.
Heath sent him a look that said: Quit it. We both know you weren’t.
Will grumbled and Heath continued. “So, the reason is because I think I’ve scored you a place to stay for a while. Short-term, anyway. Benny and James have a spare room and when I rang earlier—”
“You rang earlier? When?”
“While you were Yodel-ay-ing in the shower.”
Will did not miss the cheeky quirking of Heath’s lips, and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.
“Anyway,” Heath said, staring up the ignition, “they said you should come by and see the place. That’s what we’re doing.” More quietly, he added, “Can’t stand the thought of you with no proper place to sleep.”
He couldn’t? Sweet potatoes he was getting mixed signals here.
Whip! His seat belt jerked tight as the commodore bounced onto the road.
Heath, oblivious and grinning, cranked up the Chili Peppers and sang along, ignoring Will’s groans. At the end of the song, he lowered the volume.
“So,” Heath said, “just how flexible are you at uni? I mean, would it be possible for you to take a day off?”
Where was this going? Will eyed him, the wind from the open window flicking at the hair peeking from under Heath’s cap. “Pretty flexible.”
“Good. Take off next Friday.”
“What on earth for?”
Heath let one hand go of the wheel and slapped Will’s thigh. Just once, but it was enough for him to see the hearts spiraling around his head. Not good.
“Since I didn’t get you anything for your birthday, I think I’ll make it up to you.”
“My gut tells me I should be saying no, you don’t have to do anything for me at all. But I’m pointedly ignoring it, because making it up to me sounds like fun. Especially seeing it involves a few days. So, where are you taking me on this trip?”
Heath laughed. “Not telling. How’d you know it was a trip?”
“A day off uni before the weekend? What else could it be?”
“Huh. I really didn’t think that through.”
“Never mind,” he said, waggling his brows. “The enthusiasm will be much the same. If not more for the anticipation.”
“Well, you’re easy to please.”
“I have my moments.”
Heath smiled. “Good. Oh, also, I hope you can ride a bicycle.”
Way too soon, they reached Benny’s, a nice house with a small square of garden behind a white picket fence. “Let’s go then,” Heath said, unlocking his and Will’s belt. “This should be fun.”
This should be fun. The groan he’d detected from Heath became pretty clear once they’d been invited in. Benny had been all smiles and welcomes, ushering them into the lounge and bringing them tea, but his partner James had daggers in his eyes—like he might’ve enjoyed doing some target practice with Heath as the target.
To Will, thankfully, James was ultra nice. Though maybe even verging on sympathetic. “Of course it’s no problem if you stay with us. However, it’ll only work for a couple of months.” James snagged Benny’s free hand, almost causing Benny to drop the tea he held in is other. James stroked a thumb over his wrist. “We’re going on a six-month tour of Europe in June.”
Benny sipped his tea but didn’t hide the goofy grin on his face as he looked from James to Heath.
Heath, avoiding James’s eye for the most part, fiddled with his cap as he addressed Benny. He hadn’t touched his tea on the coffee table between him and Will, and Benny and James. “That sounds great.” Heath shifted closer to him, his warmth zinging him every time their sleeves touched. “Can’t wait until I get to explore the big bad world. Send us a postcard, yeah?”
Benny took another sip of tea, this time looking between Heath and him with the same question Will wanted answered in his eye:
What are they to each other?
“This is a great place,” Will said, forcing himself to think of the double bed he’d glimpsed under stacks of boxes in the spare room and not the guy giving him electrical buzzes every few seconds. “I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay with you.”
“Sure thing. We need to clean the room up a bit though—will tomorrow be okay to move in?”