Grady’s steps slowed when he walked into the meeting room at Kick. Seven partners were seated around the conference table, voices subdued to match the mood. Foreboding had the hairs on the back of his neck dancing, but he forced himself to stroll to an open chair and drop into it.
A few of the guys gave him a nod, others smiled, every action precise. He forced himself to smile back, be courteous. None of this was their fault, and he wouldn’t take his irritation out on them.
“Grady’s here,” Rig announced, clipped and efficient. He stood at the far end of the table, in the spot Chris or Finn had held during the one all-company meeting he’d attended. A sharp pain pierced Grady’s chest, his stomach heaving at the disparity. This wasn’t Rig being disrespectful. Simply a mandated change of leadership he’d stepped in to fill.
Rig did a brief roll call of everyone on the conference call and in the room, eleven people in all. Kick was structured on a buy-in foundation that meant every full-time employee had the opportunity to buy in to the company if the partners approved. Investment tiers determined the profit sharing and voting levels. Partners were at the top and made the major business decisions.
And Grady was on the lowest level, a simple employee of one short month before the damn trip. He’d only planned to stay here for a season, but Finn had been urging him to buy in. The killer was he’d been thinking about doing it. Using the life insurance money his mother had left him to become a partner, and set down some roots.
Then he’d gone and fucked that chance up.
“I called this meeting to update everyone on where we stand with the accident,” Rig said in a voice that commanded attention. It wasn’t hard to imagine the man leading a unit into enemy territory. “The final reports from both the insurance company and Marine Board are in.”
Grady’s stomach contracted with the punch that landed there. The urge to bolt slithered over him but that’d be cowardly. He could face whatever was said. Would face it.
He clenched the armrests, scanned the table. His nerves had him laughing inwardly at his false air of calm. Rig would’ve talked to him in private first if the news was bad, right?
“The exploratory nature of the early-season, first-run trip combined with the river rating and statements taken from the other outfitters proved the incident was an accident,” he said, tone brisk and efficient. “Both reports clear Kick and Grady of any intentional or avoidable wrongdoing.” Rig paused, hands planted on his hips. “The liability waivers signed by both Chris and Finn protect the company from being sued by anyone in their families.”
Grady released the breath he’d been holding, head falling forward when he’d sworn he wouldn’t react no matter what was said. Yet he couldn’t withhold the relief that rushed through him, weeks of unknowns finally answered.
“However,” Rig went on, “the accident is logged in both places, thus increasing our insurance rates and putting us on the state’s radar. Obviously, we never want to see anyone hurt on any of our trips, but we need to ensure our record stays clean for the rest of the season.”
There was a mumbled round of agreement that sounded mostly obligatory. Safety was always a top priority.
Grady lifted his head to face the reactions of the partners. The seven people in the room all gave him some show of support either through a smile or a nod. That should’ve gone a long way in relieving his fears and guilt, yet it didn’t. Not really.
It didn’t matter what any agency said. Chris was still dead and Finn as good as dead right now.
“Grady,” Rig snapped, the clipped, sharp bark slapping out like a reprimand.
“Yes, sir?” he shot back, response automatic. Shit.
He forced a grin, shot a wink, and hoped his slip landed as a military joke. God, fuck. His stomach sank, twisted, acid rising, but he kept his fears hidden. They couldn’t know his reply had been yanked from the depths of his past. From James and the ingrained habits he’d thought he’d disposed of long ago.
Rig paused long enough to give him a brisk nod, which almost had Grady laughing. He’d joined the company fearing this. Knowing Finn’s background and that he was a Dom. That Kick was made up of Marines and Doms. That he was walking into the very situation he’d avoided since James.
Because he’d wanted the connection with his cousin and he’d thought he could handle it. Thought he was past the shit James and his dad had dumped on him.
That belief was laughable now. Again with the hindsight.
“With that decided,” Rig continued, “we took a vote on whether you should be allowed back on duty.”
“Back on duty?” Grady did laugh this time, a dry, harsh burst he quickly stifled. “Right. I get it. I’m not surprised.” A scan of the room showed a set of stern, emotionless expressions. Natural or trained into them by the military?
“It’s not personal,” Rig stated.
“Of course not.” It was business. His heart still raced though, his leg bouncing beneath the table. He clasped his hands in his lap and waited for the end.
“It was unanimous.”
The words tightened in Grady’s stomach, a knot of the inevitable yanking tighter. Being kicked out was very different than leaving. He’d never lost a job before. Hell, his reputation as a guide was all he had. Who he was. And now?
“Breathe, dude,” War cut in, reaching around another guy to smack him on the back of the head. “You’re in.”
Grady winced, air filling his lungs on his inhale. Did he just say…“I’m in? How?” He frowned, leg stalling in his confusion.
“Because you’re a damn good guide,” Ash said, all calm control.
“None of us ever thought you were at fault,” Rig said. “All accounts including our own”—he pointed to Cort and Axel, the two partners who’d been on the riverbanks when their raft had flipped—“said the log was hidden. That you guided the raft correctly given what you saw on the surface.”
Then why did it feel like he’d made a mistake? He nodded though, throat tight once again. “Okay.” That was all he could get out, and he wasn’t really sure what they expected him to say.
“We all get it,” Rig said, his lowered voice soothing. “This isn’t the first time any of us has lost a friend or colleague. It’s just the first for this company.”
“Chris and Finn set up the corporation with the partner structure so something like this wouldn’t end the business,” Daren added from the speakerphone. Another partner and the company lawyer, he was one of the three who weren’t Marines.
“It sucks to keep going,” Rig said with a grimace. “But Finn and Chris would want us to.”
“Of course they would.” He didn’t know about Chris, but Kick was Finn’s pride and joy. He’d be damned pissed if they let it go under.
He glanced around the room, the ache in his heart easing a bit. Every guy met his eyes this time, each of them silently confirming what Rig had said. They were a working, connected unit. They’d take care of the company. Have it running and ready when Finn came back.
And he still believed Finn would. Someday.
“Finn told us of his intention to get you to become a partner,” Ash stated. He adjusted his black-framed glasses, his gaze unwavering.
Grady swallowed, his leg restarting the insistent bounce. “Yeah?”
“We’d like to formally extend the offer to you now,” Rig went on. His voice shifted back to the authoritative tone, shoulders rolling back as he straightened his spine. “Finn wanted you in, which is really enough in itself. But your skills and whitewater knowledge would be an asset to Kick. We’re still looking to expand our offerings into other countries and your résumé is stacked with experience in that area.”
What. The. Fuck? His stomach heaved, disbelief crashing against his instant refusal. “You can’t be serious.”
Rig frowned. “Why not?”
“I have the paperwork ready to go,” Daren said, the speakerphone crackling with his words. “I’ll email it out to you now.”
“We’re assuming you’re finanically able, given Finn’s intentions,” Ash added. “We have a loan option if you need some assistance though. Let me know if that’s a concern.”
“But—”
“Give it some thought,” War cut him off, leaning forward to see Grady. “It’s a lot to take in. Think about it before you answer.”
Grady shook his head, too stunned to speak. How could they have so much faith in him? How had Finn?
Vestiges of the taunts and ridicule he’d endured from the other guides employed by James surfaced in a rush of shame. He shoved them down, refused to acknowledge they still hurt, but the nervous panic balled in his chest.
He scanned the table, searching for any indication that these guys saw through him. He was the weak one. The only one in the room who didn’t exude control.
Would they retract the offer if they found out about his past? That he’d let a man control his life? That he let Micah top him during sex? No—he wanted Micah to take control during sex. Wanted him to, and Grady loved every second of it.
He thrust up, shoulder blades aching with his stiff hold. “I’ll think about it.” His stomach heaved so fiercely he had to swallow hard to keep his lunch down. “Thank you. It’s a tremendous offer. I wasn’t expecting it.” Not even close. “I—” What? He snapped his mouth closed. Rambling was a sign of weakness. His father had drilled that into his head before he was ten.
“Do that,” Rig said. “We’d like to get some overseas trips planned out and on the website before the end of the month.”
“I don’t have to be a partner to help you with that.” Partnership meant long term. Staying here—among this group of Doms. Could he really fit in here? A part of him longed to. The smarter, more cynical part said it wouldn’t be impossible.
But Finn hadn’t changed after he’d told him about James. Neither had Micah.
“No,” Ash agreed. “But you’re a Kelley. You, more than any of us, belong here.”
Fuck, right. His scoff was out before he could stop it. If they only knew how he didn’t belong among them. The odd submissive among the Doms.
Yet Finn had believed Grady fit here, among this group of guys. Becoming a partner would mean taking an even bigger risk now that Finn wasn’t present. He’d have to trust in these guys who his cousin had counted on. These proud, confident men who were offering him a place among them based on his connection to Finn and his own abilities that had nothing to do with his sexual desires.
It was hard to remember that though. Even harder to filter through his insecurities to acknowledge that bit of truth.
“I gotta go,” he said, heading to the door. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”
“Grady,” Rig called, a mix of irritation and demand in his tone that Grady ignored.
He was down the hall and out the front door before anyone could chase after him, not that he was being followed. He drove out of the parking lot a minute later, the gnawing in his stomach easing only slightly.
“Fuck.” He slammed his palm into the steering wheel. “What the fuck just happened?”
The question hung unanswered. Like the solution was going to spring from the silent radio and magically wipe away his fears. Christ.
He drove, thoughts spinning over and around the offer, Micah, his wants versus reality. How he wanted so fucking badly to believe what was being said to him. To trust the words, the kindness, the…brotherhood. A form of a family that could reject him—or give him the belonging he was afraid to depend on. Over and over with no answers, no solutions, no outs.
He found himself pulling into a parking spot a few blocks from the hospital before he’d consciously thought about where he was going. His autopilot had kicked in and he wasn’t sorry it had. At least it was quiet here.
And no one would judge him or condemn him or offer him things he couldn’t accept.
A snort of self-disgust rushed out. Who was he kidding? He shoved the gear into park and dropped his head back. He could accept their offer—if he had the balls to do so. But he’d been running for so long, he had no idea how to stop. Was here even the right place? Among the very type of guys he’d sworn to stay far away from.
Yet here he was.
For Finn and the shot at having some connection to his family again, of possibly belonging somewhere. The partnership dangled before him, the enticing carrot he only had to grab.
Then there was Micah. Who’d given Grady so much without pushing. Who’d fought back against a potentially debilitating injury to hold down a job, live on his own, volunteer, and open himself to others in an attempt to ease their pain.
Micah’s strength was a constant source of inspiration he siphoned from every time he was with him. But where could a relationship go? How long could they keep hiding? What right did he have to expect Micah to be his kinky secret? Everything about it was wrong when he admired Micah for so much more than his ability to fuck him hard.
He wasn’t ashamed of Micah. No, he was ashamed of himself, and he didn’t have a right to push that shit onto Micah.
The itch to hunt down another gig somewhere far away had already prompted him to dig through the message boards. The experienced rafting community was tight and job openings passed via word of mouth faster than official postings.
That was true of accidents and losses too.
News of his incident had spread so quickly he’d had no chance of containing it. Which meant he’d been unable to act on any of the postings he’d found. He could now though. His name was cleared.
And Finn was still in a coma.
He bolted out of the car, the forceful slam of his door echoing down the street. The childish act did nothing to relieve the building frustration scraping beneath his skin.
The hospital building loomed, suddenly menacing before him. Did he really want to go in? There was a chance Micah would be reading to Finn. The timing was right. His heart clenched at the thought of seeing him. Of taking his comfort and steeling his strength.
But did he really want Micah to see him like this? He bounced on his toes. Questions, anxiety, and fear raced together to hype him up. Yet another display of his lack of control. Of weakness.
He yanked his phone from his pocket and hit Micah’s number on impulse. He could talk to him. Let him know about the Marine Board decision. Get his input on the Kick offer. All without showing a thing. Not his shaking hands or restless jitter.
No choked words either. He’d keep his voice clear. Strong.
The call rolled to voicemail and Grady immediately redialed. Come on. Micah could answer his damn phone. He was only reading to patients who couldn’t respond anyway. It wasn’t like they’d care.
His second call netted the same result, only faster. He disconnected before the voicemail message could start, annoyance snapping out in an angry thrust of his arm. Fuck. A text buzzed, the message from Micah. Sorry, I can’t talk right now.
Really? The automatic text response was not what he needed.
And what made him think Micah was at his beck and call? Why should he drop whatever he was doing to take a call from his erratic…lover. That’s the title he’d locked Micah into. Nothing more than that, which meant he didn’t get more either.
Grady spun around and sprinted back to his car, shoes smacking on the pavement. The pushing, shoving, building sea of powerlessness rose up his chest in a swell that threatened to sink him for good.
He couldn’t let it though.
His heart pounded every aching need to get out. To breathe before he drowned. But running wasn’t an option this time.
His preparedness was his salvation as he ducked into the backseat of his SUV and quickly changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He laced up his spare set of running shoes and shoved the door open a second later, phone deliberately left behind. He bounded back down the sidewalk, an urgency pushing him to let go.
Maybe he couldn’t run away, but he could run. And the faster he went, the harder it’d be for anyone to catch him.