Grady accepted the cup of coffee, his deep inhale bringing a caffeine hit before his first sip. “Thank you,” he told Micah. The heavenly brew flooded his system and did its best to bring everything back online.
He wasn’t certain how they’d fallen into the easy routine of him picking up Micah after work, but he’d spent almost every night here for the last two weeks. They’d taken a few more planned hikes and trips outside of Micah’s comfort zone, things he hoped were expanding Micah’s horizons. It’d been almost too easy, slipping into each other’s lives. Micah being there for him when he’d avoided any kind of a relationship for years, talking about anything except the crapshoot that was his future.
And damn, the hot, amazing sex had shifted and flowed based on what they both needed. Sometimes gentle, other times demanding and hard, always ending with both of them fulfilled and content. Couple that with being held all night and it was so easy to forget all the reasons why he avoided commitment of any kind.
Yet here he sat, greedily soaking up all Micah offered.
“Hey,” he said, fiddling with the band in his pocket. “Come here.”
“What?” Micah frowned but moved around the island to stand between Grady’s legs.
“I, ah…” Shit. He pulled the wristband out, nerves stupidly fluttering all over the place. “I got this for you. Thought it might help. When you have a brain blip.”
Micah’s brows lifted, lips twitching in a noncommittal way. The band was nothing special. Just a simple two-inch wide brown leather strap. Its resemblance to the cuffs in the room at Dane’s was unmistakable though.
Micah laid his fingers on it, expression somewhere between nothing and touched. “You got this for me?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed, certain now this was a bad idea. “You don’t have to take it—or wear it. I just noticed how you search for it whenever you get lost and I thought maybe this would help. You know, when you’re hunting for something to ground you. Like…” He was babbling. Damn it.
He tugged the band back, ready to forget it. But Micah snatched it away, rubbing the stiff leather between his fingers. A smile wove over his lips, and a bit of the tightness eased from Grady’s chest.
“Thank you.” His voice was low, eyes gentle. Micah undid the snaps and wrapped the band around his wrist.
Grady had guessed on the sizing and was glad to see that it fit nicely. Snug but not too much. “I won’t be offended if you don’t wear it. I mean I know how it looks.”
“Looks?”
“Like a cuff.”
Micah chuckled, hauling Grady’s chin forward to lay a coffee-flavored kiss on him. Hard, deep, and totally mind numbing, he ended it as quick as it’d started. “I could care less about that.” He planted another quick kiss on Grady’s lips, then strolled back around the island.
Grady shook his head, pulse slowing with Micah’s easy acceptance. He was so damn grateful Micah wasn’t making a big deal over the…gift. The novelty of the gesture coming from him and what it meant was something he didn’t want to think too hard about.
“I have eggs, toast, oatmeal…” Micah looked around the refrigerator door. “Or we could skip it and catch an early lunch later.”
Grady glanced at the time, relaxing once again. “I wanted to check in on Finn.” He’d been trying to stop by in the morning these last weeks. Finn’s progress had been slow, but the doctor assured him it was normal and good.
“Eggs it is.”
He sat on the island barstool, amused at Micah’s efficiency. He was lucky if he had beer in his fridge. But then he usually wasn’t there long enough to keep fresh food around.
His phone buzzed with a text and he scrambled to pull it out of his pocket, pulse kicking up a notch. Micah froze mid–egg cracking, brows raised. His breath gusted out. “Not the hospital.”
Micah nodded and cracked the egg on the edge of the pan, no further questions.
The text wasn’t good news though, at least not for him. Partner meeting at 2. Rig wants you there.
In crashed reality, right on schedule. He shook his head, shoulders dropping.
The message was typical Asher directness with no information on why he was summoned when he’d been essentially banned since the accident. Was it good or bad news?
He stared at the message, stomach churning around the new doubts and worries. Had they heard from the Marine Board or insurance company? Had he been found liable? Guilty of negligence?
Wait. His hackles went up. This is bullshit. He didn’t have to jump because they suddenly thought he should.
Why? He texted back. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be a part of the company anymore. There was no reason for him to stick around now that Finn wasn’t in it. Especially if his cousin wasn’t coming back.
Except he had to stick around for Finn.
It’s a planning meeting, Ash texted back. And that explained so much. Not.
A plate slid in front of him, two eggs over easy with a side of toast. He jerked up, gaze darting from the food to Micah.
“Anything I can do?” he asked.
“About what?”
He nodded toward Grady’s hand where he clutched his phone. “Whatever has you so pissed off.”
Grady sat back, the stress falling out of his stiff posture a moment later. He wiped a hand over his mouth, chuckling at himself. “Sorry about that.”
Micah shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He topped off the coffee in their mugs before taking a seat next to Grady. “You just went from relaxed and happy to tense and angry in the space of one text.” He broke an egg yolk and dipped his toast in it.
Grady stared at him, amused once again. Straightforward without pushing. So Micah.
The urge to laugh and never stop rippled through him. The hysterical edge he’d been teetering on was finally catching up to him, and he had no clue if he should try to hang on or simply jump off.
“Eat.” Micah pointed his fork at Grady’s plate. “Before it gets cold.”
Eat. He could do that. And not because Micah told him to. Grady flipped him off to ensure Micah understood that, then dug into his breakfast.
The food helped to re-center him. So did the company. The quiet dedication to eating that didn’t need to be broken by conversation was relaxing in its own way. He checked his email and glanced through his social media sites between bites and Micah did the same. His temper cooled the fuller his stomach got and the lack of any additional news mellowed him out even more. Either no one knew anything or no one was saying a word.
“Are you working tonight?” he asked, shoving his clean plate away.
“Yes.”
“Do you work every night?” He had since they’d been hanging out.
“Most.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and took the dirty plates to the sink. “A routine is good for me and I like my job.”
Both things Grady knew and somewhat envied. There were times he longed for consistency, yet he’d never had a reason to give up the river.
“I liked mine too,” he said wistfully.
Micah turned back to him, confusion lining his brow. “What do you mean ‘liked’?”
Grady blew out a defeated breath. Why not tell him? He’d already spilled his guts about most of his dark secrets. He might as well go for broke. “The text was from Kick. They want a meeting with me this afternoon.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know for sure. But I’m assuming it’s about the accident.”
Micah frowned. “What about it?”
“You know I was guiding the raft, right?” He waited for Micah to acknowledge that bit of information. “It was a scouting trip. The first run of the season down challenging Class V rapids raging with the winter snowmelt. I was the one who’d encouraged Kick to expand their offerings to include that river in Northern California, just over the Oregon border. I’d run it before, so they and the other outfitters put our boat in the lead.” Would it have ended differently if another raft had been out front? “Because there was a fatality, the accident is under investigation—as it should be.” The damage was already done to his reputation regardless of the pending verdicts.
“Investigated by who?”
“The Marine Board and insurance company.”
“Damn.” Micah lifted the coffeepot in offering, and Grady shook his head. “It sounds serious, but what does it mean?”
“They hold my life in their hands.” He went for the melodramatic even though it was true. His derisive snort was his attempt at a laugh. He dropped his head back, neck muscles stretching but not relaxing. “Shit.” He straightened, the unknown weighing on him. “A guilty verdict would most likely lead to a criminal prosecution.”
“Fuck.” Micah eyes widened before he blinked. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
Just like he’d been trying not to. “Most don’t.” His life could literally come to a screeching halt if the Marine Board found him culpable. “But a part of me can’t help thinking it’d be justified.” He hunched forward and dug his fingers into his hair, the tan and cream swirl in the marble giving him something to focus on. “A decorated Marine with active combat experience died on my trip.”
He froze when Micah gripped his shoulders, winced when he rubbed at a bundle of tight muscles. He didn’t deserve to be comforted—wasn’t seeking it. Yet he couldn’t pull away either.
“Finn is also a Marine. Fuck, almost the entire damn partnership at Kick are Marines,” he went on, guilt swelling back up to choke him. And they’d trusted him, why? “Finn was always larger than life to me. Ten years older and so damn courageous. And look at him now.” Brought down by Grady instead of an enemy.
Micah used both hands to gently work at the knots in Grady’s neck and shoulders, the action both soothing and damning. Every tense spot he found was a reminder of why it was there, of the weeks of worry and grief.
“I didn’t know either of them well,” Micah said, his strong fingers working their magic. “But neither of them seemed like the type to hold a grudge or place blame. Nor do any of the Kick guys I know.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed, shoulders lowering, powerless to resist Micah’s touch. “It doesn’t stop me from blaming myself anyway.”
“Hey.” Micah urged him to turn until he was forced to meet his gaze. He ran his fingers up Grady’s jaw and he cupped it in his palm, sincerity flowing out. “You didn’t want to hear this before, but I’m going to say it again. It happened to you, too.”
The words still nailed him. He cringed, sucked in a breath. Silence ticked by, thoughts clashing in the small space that separated them. Rejection raged on the tip of his mind, but something held it back.
No, Micah held it back with his belief and honest certainty.
He swallowed the ache in his throat and willed the burn in his eyes to stop. “It doesn’t change the facts,” he croaked, embarrassed by the rough hitch.
“No, it doesn’t.” Micah stepped between Grady’s knees and laid a soft kiss on Grady’s temple, holding it until a tremble ran through him. “But you were hurt too.”
Micah held firm when he tried to jerk back, denial ready to fly now. No way was he accepting Micah’s sympathies. Not for himself.
“Don’t,” Micah commanded, all authority, his fierce belief snapping out. “You are in so much pain. Maybe not physical or even visible, but goddamnit, I see it. You feel it,” he insisted, before his tone softened. “Don’t let it consume you.”
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you….The litany died in his head only to shatter on his heart. It’d been years—if ever—since anyone had tried to ease his pain. He had no idea how to accept it, let alone believe in it.
He kept himself stiff, refusing to give in to the raging desire to let go and take the security Micah offered. In the faith he couldn’t trust.
Micah kissed his temple one more time, the touch blazing directly to Grady’s aching heart. A sigh gusted over Grady’s brow before he stepped back, setting him free.
Grady was off the stool and a dozen steps away in the next instant. Energy buzzed over his skin, flooding out in a bid to run now. Fast. Far. Familiar yet surprising since that urge had been absent since Micah had slid into his life.
He forced himself to stop though. This wasn’t Micah’s fault. None of it was.
Turning around, he kept his arms at his sides instead of crossing them over his chest like he longed to do. The extra protection over his heart would’ve been nice but was way too telling.
“I have to get going.” He tilted his head toward the stairs. “Thanks for…” He motioned at the room in general. “Everything,” he ended lamely. It was pathetic given all Micah had done for him.
“You don’t have to thank me.” Micah was leaning against the island, the pose casual, his body tense. The same deceptive tactic Grady was trying to pull off and failing just as badly. Micah took a deep breath, lips thinning. “I care about you, Grady. I hope you get that.”
His pulse jumped, heart double-stepping over the want and rejection. What should he say? How should he react? What does it mean, really?
“I do,” he finally mumbled, glancing away. “I don’t know….” God, don’t be pathetic. Man up or get the hell out. He looked directly at Micah, the guy he cared too damn much about—for. Each shallow breath barely made it to his lungs, but it was enough to get the words out. “Me too.”
Lame and fucking short of what he should say, it was the best he could do.
A quick nod and he was thundering down the stairs, his need to escape almost tripping him up. His boots were untied when he stepped onto the front porch. His first breath of fresh air chased away the dark spots dancing before his eyes. The second propelled him to his car.
He glanced up before he got in, the upper windows empty. Relief and disappointment made an awful mess in his chest, but he didn’t try to decipher what it meant.
What was the point?