Chapter Two

A light shaking dragged Quentin from a deep sleep. Even once his eyes opened, he couldn't shake the exhaustion. He'd dreamed of Snow. Quentin didn't want to leave him behind to face the day. Adam's concerned expression stared down at him.

"Are you okay? You slept through your alarm. I thought you had brunch plans with your investment agent."

Quentin blinked at the clock. It was nearly one in the afternoon. He had slept over twelve hours, yet he felt like he hadn't slept at all. "Yeah. Sorry. Please send my apologies. I think I may be coming down with something. I'm still not quite awake yet."

The pinched look to Adam's features didn't soften. "What happened to your neck?"

Quentin felt his neck, as if that would tell him anything. "I don't know what you mean."

"There are fingerprint bruises on your neck." His expression turned thunderous. "Did Snow hurt you last night?"

Quentin's insides went cold. "How do you know I saw Snow last night?"

Adam winced. "I ran into him in the parking lot right before you called for the car to leave. Bit of a coincidence now, isn't it?"

Quentin sat upright, or rather, he tried to sit. His head spun, making him nauseous. He held his head between his hands. "Snow didn't hurt me. I don't know how I ended up bruised. Maybe I did something weird during my workout. Fuck. I feel like I'm coming down with the flu."

Instantly, Adam became a mother hen. He pressed Quentin back down to the mattress and piled covers on him. "Stay. I'll have John make you some soup while I clear your calendar."

As much as Quentin wanted to argue, he felt too bad. He closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths until his rolling stomach calmed. Another reason for him to hate those stupid events. Everyone brought their nasty germs, spreading them to everyone else. It probably didn't help he had been pushing himself so hard lately. His body needed rest. Quentin just hated the idea of being still after years of being trapped in his body. That one thought led to another until a horrible thought creeped in. Leukemia had been what had landed him in a wheelchair. Back in those days, he had felt exactly like this.

He tossed back the covers, ignoring the way his head spun. Quentin weaved his way to the bathroom and eyed his neck. The memory of Snow holding his throat flooded Quentin's mind. It hadn't been hard or painful. Yet the bruising unmistakably fit. The sick pit in the center of Quentin's stomach doubled in size. He gripped the edge of the counter and prayed he was wrong.

Adam appeared behind him. "Why are you out of bed? And holy shit, your whole back is black."

Quentin's stomach heaved. He fought the urge to cry. "I need you to call my physician. Tell him it's an emergency."

Adam nodded and rushed from the room. Quentin's gaze lifted. He met his stare in the mirror. Dark circles made his eyes look even bluer. Quentin didn't want to fight this battle again. He couldn't. This had to be a fluke. Quentin couldn't do this twice in one lifetime. It wasn't fair.

The early evening hours inside Bare Studs were always oddly peaceful. The music played lower. There was a calm about the place. Only the after work closeted business executives littered the corners, watching in shame. The ones who worked up the nerve to get a lap dance always tipped extremely high to assuage their guilt. Snow counted in tills for the night and checked their stock of drinks. He worked more hours than anyone because he had nothing else anymore. Once upon a time, Snow hadn't needed the money. He had worked for Quentin for years for high pay and no overhead. But those days were gone, and so too was his savings. He couldn't sit around all day wallowing in his self-pity. That had already led to him holding a gun to his head too many times. So he worked and helped Pink build a new life. It was a purpose. He clung to it.

The front door opened.

Snow's gaze automatically lifted.

A nervous-looking Quentin stepped inside.

Snow's heart stopped. Too many thoughts to capture raced through his mind at once. First, he thought Quentin had come for him before dismissing that as ridiculous. There was no way Quentin knew where to find him. Next, a wave of fury hit. How dare Quentin come here looking to be entertained by other men? Snow was right here. He had everything Quentin needed. Then Quentin's gaze landed on him, as if he knew exactly where he would be. He headed Snow's way. Snow's heart took control. He circled the bar and met Quentin halfway.

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

A sweet and uncertain-looking smile touched Quentin's lips. "I came to see you… obviously." Quentin sounded confused, as if wondering why it hadn't been obvious.

Snow motioned toward the nearest table, silently asking Quentin to sit. "I'm just a little surprised to see you. How did you find me?"

Quentin sank into the chair as if relieved to be off his feet. Snow eyed him closer. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he was still as beautiful as ever. He wore a light blue t-shirt that made his eyes pop. Snow couldn't look away.

"I never lost you."

That comment brought Snow's thoughts up short. "Never lost me?"

A sad smile crossed Quentin's features. "You know I have my connections. I made sure you were always safe."

Snow didn't know how to react. He thought he had been stalking Quentin. Not the other way around. He shook his head. It didn't matter. "I'm really happy to see you. Surprised but… thrilled." Snow hoped Quentin heard the honesty in his voice.

Quentin looked away, as if uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "I wish it was under better circumstances."

Snow's brow furrowed. Alarm bells clanged in his mind. "Is everyone okay?"

"Not really. No."

Snow's heart raced. "Who is it? How can I help?"

Quentin met his stare. He looked completely devoid of hope. "It's me. It's back."

Everything inside Snow froze. He wanted to ask what was back, just to give himself a moment to process. But he knew already. The truth was in Quentin's eyes. The leukemia he had fought so hard to beat had come for him again. Snow wanted to hold him. He wanted to physically keep him there. "Tell me what I can do?"

Quentin swept a shaky hand through his hair. He looked ready to drop. "I know I have no right to be here. You don't deserve to have me pop into your life like this. I have no right to ask anything of you."

"Stop." Snow couldn't listen to any more of that bullshit. He belonged to Quentin, and Quentin belonged to him. "You know better, Quen. No matter what happened in the past, there's no way you don't know I love you. Nothing could ever make me stop. Everything I do is for you. You know that in your heart." Even Snow heard the way his voice shook with the power of his emotions. This was serious. They couldn't keep playing games. They didn't have the luxury anymore of waiting for some type of punishment to fit the crime. Quentin had come to him for a reason. That reason was he knew Snow was his man. He knew what they had was real.

Quentin gave him a sharp nod. "No one knows all about my investments and how to keep things running the way you do. I need the family to keep running smoothly. There'll be more times than not that I won't have the energy to handle things. If I don't make it, the household will need someone there to manage my money and provide for the family for me. You're the only one who knows my life inside and out. You're the one I trust."

Snow wanted to flip the table and rage at the world. Quentin so calmly spoke of his dying, as if Snow should accept that fate. His gaze shot around the room. He spotted Pink watching them, as if he couldn't look away. Snow motioned for Pink to join them.

Pink jumped into action, quickly crossing the room. He practically skipped to Quentin's side. "Hi."

A sweet smile touched Quentin's lips. He didn't know how to be unkind. "Hello."

Snow motioned toward Pink. "This is Pink. Pink, this is Quentin."

Pink held out his hand to shake. "It's very nice to finally meet you. Snow has told me everything about you."

Quentin looked so tired—like he might fall over at any second. Still, he humored Pink. "You have very pretty hair."

Pink touched his hot pink hair and beamed. "Thank you. It fits my personality." Pink smacked Snow's shoulder. "You weren't exaggerating at all. He's beautiful."

Snow wished they were having this conversation under better circumstances. He knew Pink and Quentin would love each other. But now, he needed to get Quentin home. "Something has come up and I can't stay. Do you think you could take over tonight?"

Pink looked between them. His expression changed as he realized something wasn't right. "Of course. Thursday nights are always dead anyway. Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Snow stood. "No, but thank you. I'll call you later and we'll talk."

Pink nodded. "Okay. Keep me in the loop." His gaze moved back to Quentin. "Again, it was wonderful to finally meet you."

Quentin stood, or rather, he tried. He stumbled and reached for the first thing he could to keep from going down. Quentin ended up holding a handful of Snow's shirt. "Sorry."

Snow didn't hesitate. He swept Quentin off his feet. Pink and he exchanged a glance. He knew Pink saw his fear. Pink dipped his chin, letting Snow know he had his back. Snow headed for the door.

"I'm sorry."

Snow ground his back teeth at the apologies. As he made his way outside, he found Adam waiting. Adam didn't meet his gaze as he opened the back door of Quentin's SUV. That said more than all Quentin's confessions. The news was bad. Snow didn't know if he could handle it. He held Quentin all the way home. No one tried stopping him as he carried Quentin to bed. The house was silent, as if everyone walked on eggshells and held their breath. Snow removed Quentin's shoes and tucked him into bed. He climbed in next to Quentin. It still felt like his side of the bed. He felt like he had never left.

"I'm staying right here in case you need anything."

Quentin nodded. It was obvious he couldn't keep his eyes open. Snow settled on his side and stared at Quentin. How had this happened so quickly? Quentin had looked so strong lately.

Quentin suddenly jerked as if he dozed and woke just as quickly. "I need something." Quentin's eyes never opened, but he sounded desperate.

"Anything, baby."

"Will you kiss me? I don't want to—"

Snow kissed him. He didn't need to hear Quentin's reasoning. This was love. They were a set. No matter what happened between them, they were a them. Always would be. The back of his eyes burned as their tongues met. Love burned through him. For a decade, he had slept at Quentin's side. Quentin had been his whole world since day one. He wouldn't be dying. Not on Snow's watch. Snow was home now. He would make Quentin better. There was no other outcome possible. Snow couldn't exist without Quentin. He wouldn't. This wasn't the end. Quentin would see. Snow was here to stay.