Hearts Under Fire (11 page)

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Authors: Kelly Wyre and HJ Raine

Tags: #Gay Romance

BOOK: Hearts Under Fire
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Clark eased his arm across Daniel’s shoulders and turned, which brought his face close enough to Daniel’s that he could count pores. “Thanks... I’ve... I can manage this.”

“I’m going to watch you sit down while I’m right here. No use going this far and having you hit your head on the pavement,” Daniel said dryly.

“...Right,” Clark said, tearing his eyes away from Daniel’s. He felt warm and blamed it on readjusting body temperature. With more grace than he thought he had in him, Clark sank back into the car and swung his long legs in after him. He clutched his left knee, knowing it would be sore as hell tomorrow.

Daniel closed the door, walked to the other side, got in, and started the car. Clark felt Daniel looking at him as he leaned back against the headrest, eyes closing.

“If you want to relax, you can enter your address in the GPS and it’ll take us there.” Daniel threw the car into reverse and pulled out of the spot.

“Fine,” Clark mumbled. He navigated menus, grateful for the focus, and then sank back into the seat, arms crossing. He frowned, considering. “Were you...” He paused to rephrase. “You looked like you were having a good time back there.”

“I was,” Daniel said evenly. They rounded the last of the Break parking lot and entered the Bliss tiers. The lights of the city glittered below them like a chest full of jewels spilled across black velvet, and Daniel’s breath went from him in a soft, “Oh.”

The Tesla slowed, and Daniel laughed softly. “I bet you see that every time you come up here.”

Clark watched Daniel, not the city, and liked the way the professor looked when something made him happy. “Yeah, I do. Doesn’t get old, though.”

“That’s good to know.” Daniel smoothly and silently pulled forward. He kept it slow for the lot, and then when they hit the ridge road, he sped up. Enjoying the ride and thinking the car was damn near as good on the corners as the Jag, Clark struggled, feeling like he should say something.
Knew
he should. But he was tongue-tied and irritated about it and finally just blurted out what came to mind first. “I’m sorry. About that back there.” He paused. Well, it was going so well, why not just keep digging the hole? “And thanks -- for the ride.”

And for helping me off the pavement despite me being a jackass. Good of you.

“You’re very welcome,” Daniel said. “Thank you for trusting me and giving me your address.”

A joke was on Clark’s tongue instantly -- something about his loft not having anything of interest to Daniel if Clark wasn’t home -- but it died in the silence of the car. He shifted in the seat and leaned his head back again.

“...PTSD,” Clark said with his eyes closed, not sure why he was sharing, but the urge to talk made him squirm. Besides, the man was helping Clark out, had said something back there about liking him, and Clark firmly put the rest out of his mind. He didn’t know quite what to do with all the events of the night, yet. He felt at once too tired and too painfully aware of Daniel. And the memory of the way Daniel’s hand felt on his back and in his hair was not helping him sit still or focus.

“Usually the episodes are mild. Tonight’s wasn’t. It hasn’t been that bad since I first got...”

Out of the hospital and back to the US for six months of psychiatric counseling to make sure I didn’t go blow someone up.

“...back home,” Clark finished.

Daniel nodded. “I was worried about you. You seemed...” He stopped, bit his lip, and took a turn too fast. He had to drag the Tesla viciously around with acceleration.

“Sorry,” Daniel said, contrite.

“Nicely done,” Clark praised. “And don’t apologize to me; I think your tires felt that more than I did.”

Daniel chuckled. “Thanks. This car’s far too forgiving of my mistakes, so I push it harder than I should.” His eyes canted toward Clark in the dim of the car, and Clark faced forward, worrying at his lip and running his palms over his pants. He replayed every moment of the night in his head and found himself terribly unsure. All the fallout from Orsino’s that Clark had so carefully explained to himself. Then the exchanges tonight at Break, the way Daniel looked like he wanted Clark for dinner at the coat check. The scene, God, the looks, the exchanges, the damned
words.

“Liked you when I met you... reputation preceded you... just didn’t see...”

Clark was far from an idiot, even when he was exhausted, even when he wanted to find some dark hole and hide away until the world disappeared.

“What do you really want of me?”

Clark made a quiet noise and rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. This was bad. Good. Uncomfortable. Awkward. Unusual. Upsetting.

Clark kept going, amusing himself with finding new words to describe his present situation.

“Now you’re thinking enough to make my head hurt, and that’s saying something.”

Clark looked at Daniel, surprised, and managed to chuckle. At least this particular mess was better than being by himself, drunk, crawling, occasionally throwing up, and talking to dead people. That was the usual routine after such an episode, but with Daniel in the mix, maybe it could be different.

“I was... just replaying the night,” Clark said lamely. It was at least the truth, if not the
entire
truth.

Daniel tilted his head as the GPS warned him of the turn onto the highway. He followed the directions and accelerated up the ramp. “What parts were you replaying?” he asked. “I hope some of it was good.”

Clark relaxed at the playful tone of Daniel’s voice. “Watching you with Adam was nice.” Clark rumbled a low chuckle. “Kid liked you a lot.”

“He was very sweet,” Daniel said, wistful. “It’s nice having someone I can read so easily, and fun to be able to meet his needs. Made it easy to focus on him instead of all those people.” Daniel shuddered. “I’m still not sure I’m much good at public scenes.”

“You looked like you’d been doing them since pre-school,” Clark said, as a humorous caricature of a five-year-old Daniel in leather filled his brain. “You did fine. Adam’s good at what he does, and he doesn’t usually cut loose like that. So you definitely did everything right in his book.” Clark shifted uncomfortably as Daniel’s words came back to him again.

“...really want of me?”

“He doesn’t? Huh.” Daniel fell into thought, and Clark looked out the window as they drew closer to his home. Images of Daniel holding and touching Adam danced through his brain, leaving Clark pained instead of turned on. He shifted in the seat, wishing to be out and moving instead of pent up inside a car. He wasn’t very good at sitting still, and he felt like he was on a razor’s edge.

After moments passed in silence, Clark had to say something to turn off the soundtrack of Daniel’s voice in his own mind. “You said you were worried about me,” Clark nearly whispered and cleared his throat. “And so you, what... saw me leaving and...?”

“I followed you. After making sure Tristan had Adam and was okay with it. I...” Daniel’s swallow was audible. “I had to.”

Clark cocked his head, intrigued and wishing he wasn’t. “You had to?”

“Yes. I saw you getting more and more tense, more and more uncomfortable, and I thought... No. I felt...” Daniel growled. “In part, I felt responsible, and in part, I just...”

“You just?” Clark prompted.

Daniel’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. “...I was worried.”

Listening to Daniel struggle through the answer was sweet.
Enticing
and sweet. Clark fidgeted, stopped himself, and then said to hell with it.

Reaching over, Clark touched Daniel’s thigh with a light brush and pulled his hand away, not wanting Daniel to think it was anything other than an acknowledgment that Clark heard how hard those words were to say and appreciated it. “You didn’t know...” Clark sighed.

“April thirtieth is the anniversary of when this happened,” Clark said, gesturing to his face. “It wasn’t you. Well... you reminded me a little of some things.” Clark shook his head. “But this is all my shit, not yours. So don’t...” Clark fisted his hand and rested it between them. “Feel bad for it. I’m sort of glad you were there, but it’s not easy ‘cause only a few people have ever seen me like that.” Clark shrugged, trying to calm his heartbeat and keep his breathing steady at his admission. He wanted to feel good about explaining -- wanted to think Daniel deserved it -- but part of him screamed to take it back. Fast.

“Ah, that makes sense.” Daniel seemed to consider Clark’s words. “I won’t feel bad about it, then. I’m glad I was there, too, and didn’t learn the next morning that you had an episode and had to make it home on your own.”

Clark watched Daniel closely, half-formed thoughts made of intuition and curiosity flaring in his mind. He reached and rested his hand again on Daniel’s thigh, and couldn’t help but rub his finger on the leather.

“Yeah,” Clark said, voice rough. “I really don’t want to think about what would have happened if someone else came along. Have this reputation to pander to and all.”

Daniel laughed, and Clark felt a pang of sympathy and shame when Daniel’s voice broke in the middle. His right hand closed on Clark’s, gripping it roughly before he loosened his hold.

“Yeah. At least with me you won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Clark stared at their joined hands and marveled as every single cell in his being sat up and took notice of the simple touch. He licked his lips. “Oh good,” he said. “So next time things get bad, I can call you to come pick me up off the sidewalk?” He tried to keep the words light, but they came out soft and earnest.

“Yes,” Daniel said, just as softly. “I’ll get to you, no matter where you are or when.”

The GPS announced their arrival. Clark glanced out the window at the warehouse, quiet as Daniel parked.

“Please, Clark,” Daniel pleaded. “Don’t try and get out until I’m at the passenger door? You’ve probably stiffened with the ride.”

Clark squeezed Daniel’s hand, touched by the concern. He bit back the hundred responses that came to mind about how he could manage himself, that this wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt, that it was minor and Daniel should really stop worrying so much. Instead, he opted to let the man help; Clark’s knee
was
stiff. He didn’t need to move it to know that.

“Okay,” Clark said quietly.

Daniel pressed Clark’s hand before letting go. He got out of the car to come around and open the door. Bemused at all the fuss, Clark got out with relative ease, compensating for the stiff knee by balancing more on his other leg. In truth, he’d hurt himself worse from not stretching properly before he went for a run, but it was nice that Daniel cared; that enticing sort of sweet again.

“All good, Doc,” Clark said. “I think I’m going to live.” He flashed a grin at the man on the other side of the car door.

Daniel laughed. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” He stood back, giving Clark room.

“Up we go, then,” Clark said, walking to the side of the building and pausing to wait on Daniel. “It’s just one flight of stairs, or are you going to make me take the elevator?” Clark cocked a brow, feeling easier with the banter.

“Make you,” muttered Daniel. “As if I could
make
you do anything.” He shook his head and grinned at Clark. “Stairs are supposed to be good for you, but if you don’t mind, I’ll be behind you.”

Clark reached for his keys and surprised himself by shooting a playful smirk over one shoulder. “You know, I don’t mind you behind me,” he said to Daniel, mouth twitching. Daniel snorted, and Clark let the comment lie in its bed of innuendo. It was just flirting, like they did back at the bar when they first met. No harm, no foul.

Clark got the door unlocked and stepped into the entryway. He headed for the stairs directly in front of them, ignoring the elevator on the right. The old warehouse had been converted into housing just a few years ago, part of a city renovation project.

When they reached the second floor, Clark sorted through his keys again. Having Daniel behind him
was
nice, all joking aside. This was the calmest he’d ever been after an attack; it was nothing short of miraculous, really.

Clark got the locks undone and stepped into his loft, arm braced to hold the heavy steel door for Daniel. The apartment was a good space with lots of light. It opened up along the length of the building, the external wall was exposed red brick, and two-story windows shot up to the high ceiling. It’d been a bitch to get coverings for them, but he managed, with Jeffrey’s assistance, to find heavy, dark green drapes and cords that let Clark block the sunlight.

Both Jeffrey and Heather had helped Clark decorate, and he was grateful for their advice. The loft was now divided into areas, the kitchen being the first, across the loft. Beside the kitchen was an industrial table standing on a rug. Beyond that was the seating area, couch facing the interior plaster wall and a large flat-screen TV perched on a stand. At the back of the loft, an antique screen divided the space again, blocking the view of the bedroom, which held a king bed, dresser, nightstand, and mirror. The bathroom was in the far back corner next to the bedroom.

Letting the door fall closed, Clark bent to unlace his shoes and yank them off before flicking a switch that turned on the lights. “Come on in,” he said to Daniel.

Daniel stepped inside and sat down to take off his boots, setting them next to Clark’s. He stood and looked around. “This is really nice,” he said. “You’d never know this was here from the outside.”

“Thanks.” Clark chuckled and walked on sock-covered feet toward the back of the apartment. “Make yourself at home, just want to get out of this,” Clark said as he plucked at his vest. He’d soaked it through with sweat, and it was starting to itch.

“All right.” Daniel said from the kitchen. Clark shut the bathroom door, flicked on the light, and sank back against the wood to take stock. Bodily, he wasn’t too bad: slightly shaky, but nothing Gatorade and rest wouldn’t fix. No nausea, which was fantastic. Sometimes Clark spent hours in the hell between sick and well after an episode. His head vaguely ached, but he thought the Gatorade would help that, too. His knee hurt, but it wasn’t bad, and there was no eye pain -- another miracle -- and no residual phantom pain, either. It was a night of blessings, apparently.

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