Chapter 16

SIXTEEN

The pathof recovery was different for everyone, and it was never a straight line. Will had learned that on day one of medical training, but nothing brought home just how true it was like loving someone who was going through the process.

“Do you want to come with me to see Brandon’s new project?” he asked Oakley on a Saturday morning, as the two of them lounged in bed, engaged in their favorite activity, kissing and touching and just being aroused with each other. “It’s about time the two of you met.”

Oakley arched his eyebrow. “You’re asking me about your brother while the two of us are all cozy like this?”

Will laughed a low, soft laugh and muscled himself over Oakley’s body. “Only so I know how much time we have this morning before we actually have to get up and get moving,” he said. Then, even though it was cliché as hell, he slipped his hand between the two of them to palm Oakley’s erection, and said, “You’re already up, it seems.”

Oakley made a groaning sound for the bad joke, then grabbed the back of Will’s neck and pulled him down for a deep kiss.

It felt so good. Not only the physical sensations, but the fact that Oakley had initiated things. They’d hit a bump after the restaurant debacle, but since the end of April, Oakley was making an effort to bounce back. That included a particular focus on sex, for which Will had no complaints.

“Flip me over and fuck me,” Oakley demanded breathlessly as their bodies heated.

Will slowly broke into a grin. “I thought you still weren’t a fan of bottoming.”

“I am today,” Oakley said, shifting Will off him and pushing his upper body so he could turn over. “I just want to feel you in me.”

There was no way Will could say no to something as delicious as that. He helped Oakley make it over, then shoved a few pillows under his stomach to make things easier for both of them.

“You are a beautiful man, Oakley,” Will whispered against Oakley’s ear as he stretched over him, then nipped on his earlobe.

Oakley let out a hitched breath, then relaxed into the bed, hands gripping the edge of the mattress.

Somewhere in the very back of Will’s mind, as he kissed and licked his way down Oakley’s broad, muscled back, pulling gasps and sighs from Oakley as he went, Will knew there was more to Oakley’s insistence that Will fuck him than met the eye. His lover’s body was a little too loose as he kissed and touched and worshiped it, even when he passed below the surgery scars that marked the spot of Oakley’s injury and increased the pressure of his touch so Oakley would feel it more.

If he hadn’t known better, Will would have thought Oakley had given up. Even though he was obviously turned on and enjoying everything they were doing.

That tiny kernel of doubt kept Will from throwing himself fully into the moment. He focused on giving Oakley as much pleasure as he could instead. That included pushing Oakley’s legs apart, lifting his hips a little more, and spreading his cheeks so he could rim him with enthusiasm.

Oakley let out a long sound of pleasure as Will thrust his tongue into the tight pucker of his hole. “I still can’t believe how good that feels,” he sighed.

Will laughed low in his throat, then rubbed his stubbly beard against Oakley’s arsecheek before going back for more.

“That too,” Oakley hummed.

Will felt him shift as he reached a hand down to stroke his cock. He smiled, loving the way that Oakley was motivated to take responsibility for his own pleasure, at least.

He threw himself into kissing and licking Oakley and running his nails over his arse and thighs. With Oakley, all the rules of sex and what felt good were different, but Will still considered it the best sex of his life. He and Oakley were in tune with each other in a way he just hadn’t been with any of his past lovers.

He reached for the lube when the mood between them turned hot and took a quick minute to prep Oakley. Even though the sensation in Oakley’s hole was different than it once had been, Will didn’t want to take any chances with hurting him.

His prep paid off as he pushed in and Oakley let out a long, whimpering sigh. That little signal that Oakley was in the right place was all Will needed to let go of his inhibitions and give both of them what they needed. He thrust slowly a few times, then adjusted over Oakley, grasping Oakley’s free hand with one of his, then sped up, losing himself in the friction and squeeze of his lover.

The pleasure was amazing, but the need to blurt out every sort of endearment and to tell Oakley he loved him over and over was as potent as his building orgasm. Saying “I love you” during sex didn’t count, though, so he did the next best thing and slowed down, kissing Oakley’s neck and shoulder and making sure that Oakley came first.

“Don’t wait for me,” Oakley panted, turning his head to the side. “I can feel you’re about to explode, and it takes so long for me.”

Will’s heart throbbed within him, and he pushed as deep as he could into Oakley for a moment before wrapping himself around him. “I will always wait for you,” he said, nuzzling the side of Oakley’s neck and reaching between them. He nudged Oakley’s hand aside and took over stroking his cock. “We’re in this together.”

It was almost better than saying “I love you”. Oakley made a soft sound and relaxed. He reached back and awkwardly grabbed Will’s hip, but it felt like the right thing.

With patience that was a surprising turn-on, Will stroked and kissed Oakley, thrusting again as well when he could feel Oakley was close. When Oakley sucked in a breath, then let it out as his body did the best it could to climax, Will let himself go and reached for his own orgasm.

It was hot and, at least for Will, deeply satisfying. But the best part was shifting everything around so the two of them could snooze for a few minutes more in each other’s arms afterwards. Oakley must have been tired, because he drifted off quickly, letting Will mold him however he wanted him.

Half an hour later, when Will untangled them and got out of bed, the niggling doubts that had whispered at the back of his mind were back, and they were louder.

“Come on,” he said, throwing back the covers and getting up. “Let’s shower and get this day started.”

“I think I’ll just lie in a little longer,” Oakley said, pulling the covers back around him.

He had a vague smile on his face, so Will didn’t push things. But Oakley was still in bed once he came out of the shower and got dressed.

He was still in bed after Will fed himself breakfast and when he headed out to Brandon’s.

“I hated leaving him there like that,” he told Brandon once he was in his brother’s back garden, helping Brandon with the potting project he’d undertaken. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with Oakley wanting to have a lazy day, and he’s perfectly capable of getting himself into the shower these days.”

“But his actions smack of thinly veiled depression that happens to have a smile on its face at the moment,” Brandon said as he packed dirt around the seedling he’d just potted.

“Exactly,” Will sighed, his shoulders dropping.

They were working at a specially raised garden bed that Brandon had designed to accommodate his limited range of motion. Gardening had become something of a passion of Brandon’s when he realized he could do it without a lot of fuss, even with his weakened arms and his more complex chair. Will enjoyed helping him now and then, and every time he did, it gave him ideas for new sorts of occupational and life therapies for his patients.

“Oakley insists he’s doing fine,” Will went on, shifting the flat of seedlings closer to Brandon, then leaning against the bed. “The restaurant really set him back. He’s been quiet about things for the last few days, since meeting Moira and Henry in the park. He smiles and chats, about everything but himself, mind you, and he’s been putting a lot of effort into bed.”

“Please don’t elaborate,” Brandon said, glancing at him with a smirk.

“Believe me, I won’t.” Particularly since he still had the feeling that, as amazing as it had turned out to be, something was off about Oakley asking to be fucked.

“He’s gone back to work, though, right?” Brandon asked when Will was silent for too long.

And that was the kicker, really. That was the biggest, glaring sign that Oakley was just pretending not to be depressed as hell.

“He was back for a while, but he stopped working,” Will said. “He told his business partner he needed more time and that he pushed himself too hard.”

Brandon hummed and frowned. “He’s seeing a psychologist, I hope.”

“Yes, once a week,” Will sighed and rubbed the bottom half of his face. Just because someone was in therapy, that didn’t mean they were discussing the things that needed to be talked about. And as close as the two of them were, what Oakley talked about with his psychologist was none of his business.

“And what about you?” Brandon asked, moving the pots he’d finished with aside, then maneuvering his chair to face Will. “Have you interviewed for that job I know you want?”

The switch in subject from Oakley to himself had Will flushing hot and feeling like he’d been put on the spot.

“No, not yet,” he confessed. He turned to fiddle with Brandon’s potting supplies so he didn’t have to meet his brother’s eyes.

“And why not?” Brandon asked, as if he were their dad.

Will shrugged. “No reason, really. I’ve had my hands full for the last couple days, trying to figure out how to help Oakley.”

Brandon laughed, but he didn’t say anything to indicate why. “What are you afraid of, Willoughby?” he asked, sounding even more like their parents. “Is it a fear that you would be rejected for something you want again or is it the scrutiny you know you’d face over your relationship with Oakley?”

Will turned to his brother with scowl. “Stop being an armchair psychologist, it doesn’t suit you.”

“So I’m right, then,” Brandon said, bursting into a smug smile. “You’re terrified of rejection.”

“I am not,” Will insisted. “I’m just needed elsewhere.”

Brandon narrowed his eyes at him, as if saying that was the other side of the same coin.

“And besides,” Will rushed on, anxious to wipe the perceptive, disappointed look off his brother’s face, “if I did get the promotion, it would mean longer hours at work. It would mean less time at home with Oakley. Someone else would have to take over his physical therapy, and I’m not sure I want that.”

Brandon laughed again. “Codependent much?”

“Fuck you.”

“But isn’t that what it’s all about?” Brandon asked, still laughing. “You reached for something at the beginning of the year and you got your hand slapped down for your efforts. Now, you’ve got a second chance to win that prize, but you can’t stomach the thought of being denied again. So you’re clinging to the one sure thing you think you have in your life.”

Brandon’s words hurt. Mostly because they were true.

Will stopped fussing with the potting supplies and turned to his brother again. “I’m really fucking tired of everyone tying my career and my relationship together into one bundle. They’re not. Work is work, and Oakley is home. I’m not going to lose one because of the other.”

Brandon just smiled in response, which was all he needed to do.

Because his career was tied to Oakley, whether he wanted it to be or not. Both required huge amounts of his energy, and both were so precious to him that he didn’t know what he would do if he lost them. And Will still had the desperately uneasy feeling that loving Oakley counted against him where his career advancement was concerned.

“I don’t think I could handle being told I can’t do the job I’ve always dreamed of because I fell in love with the wrong man,” he admitted quietly to Brandon. “It would be so bloody unfair after all the years I’ve put in, after giving my heart and soul to others. Why can’t I just have something beautiful for myself?”

Brandon made a deep, sympathetic sound. “Oh, Will. I’m so sorry,” he said. “Life is full of choices, and sometimes the big ones are taken away from us through no fault of our own.”

It was obvious what he meant by that. Brandon’s life wasn’t his choice. Neither was Oakley’s now. Neither was Moira’s, or Henry’s, for that matter, or the lives of most of the people who Will worked with every day.

But that was the point. He loved his job because it allowed him to help people face their lack of choice. What he did mattered. It mattered to them and it mattered to him. It wasn’t like the choice between work and Oakley was a matter of quitting some job at a shop or a restaurant. What he did changed lives.

And Oakley had changed his life.

“Enough, now,” Brandon said with surprising strength. “You’re grinding on the problem, and it isn’t going to help.”

“I know,” Will said, brushing a hand over his face.

“What will help right now is you and me getting all these seedlings planted so that they’ll be ready for my gardening group on Thursday,” Brandon went on, changing his tone to something more conversational.

“You have a gardening group?” Will asked, turning back to the garden bed to get on with things.

“Yeah,” Brandon said. “While you’ve been lashing your soul with the whip of life, I’ve been working on starting up a post-rehabilitation hobby program for people like me. And Oakley,” he added.

“Sounds promising,” Will said, handing Brandon his trowel. “Tell me about it.”

Listening to Brandon talk about the idea he had for a post-rehab program kept Will from pondering his own problems for the rest of the afternoon. Brandon’s idea was a good one, and under other circumstances, Will might have been interested in becoming a part of it.

But his work problems weren’t going away, and Oakley needed him.

Oakley’s need for him was underscored when he finally made it home late that afternoon only to find Oakley in the living room with his assistant from work.

“Make certain you list the prices for the cameras correctly,” he was in the middle of telling Vanessa, who sat on the sofa beside Oakley in his chair, nodding and taking notes. “I’m tempted to sell all of the photos along with the cameras, just to get them out of here.”

“If you say so,” Vanessa said, scribbling something on her tablet.

“What’s all this?” Will asked, stepping into the room.

Oakley’s camera equipment was out on all the tables and one of the chairs. Several other items, like backpacks and camping gear, were scattered around the room as well. The portfolio for the planned renovations to Brynthwaite House was still on the table as well, lying open with what looked like a printout of listings for estate agents lying on top.

“God, Will, you need a shower,” Oakley greeted him with a teasing smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Will ignored what he could clearly see was a diversionary tactic. “Seriously, what is all this?”

Oakley lost his smile and glanced sheepishly to Vanessa for a moment. “I’ve decided to sell a few things, that’s all,” he said.

“Your cameras?” Will stepped farther into the room, glancing around at Oakley’s things. “Your hiking equipment?”

“There’s much more at the house in Keswick,” he told Vanessa, almost like he was avoiding answering Will’s questions. “I can send you an inventory of that as well.”

“Oakley, you’re not selling your cameras and hiking equipment,” Will said, worry and anger and anguish bubbling up in him. “You love all those things.”

“Yes, well, I’m not going to get any use out of them now, am I,” he sighed, rubbing his face.

The fact that he hadn’t shouted and snapped and been his usual cocky git self sent even more worry through Will.

Before he could even ask, Vanessa rose and started toward the door. “I’ll just leave you two to talk for a second. I’ll make tea.”

She skittered out of the room so fast Will was surprised the pictures didn’t drop off the walls.

“You’re not selling your equipment,” Will repeated, marching over to Oakley.

“It’s no use trying to talk me out of it,” Oakley said. “I have to face reality. That’s what we’ve been going for this whole time, right? Accepting my limitations and learning to adapt to the life I have now? That life isn’t going to involve hiking in the Cumbrian mountains, so I won’t need any of this.”

Will clenched his jaw and sat on one of the arms of the sofa, bristling with alarm that he wasn’t certain what to do with.

“You don’t know how your recovery is going to progress, Oakley, and you don’t know what you’ll need going forward,” he said.

“I’m not ever going to walk again, Will,” Oakley said, turning his face away from him. “I’ve accepted that now. I’ve got to handle this gracefully and not make a fool of myself by striving for something that’s not going to happen. Isn’t that the final stage of grief? Acceptance?”

“This is not acceptance,” Will said, gesturing around the room. “This is depression. There are paraplegics all over who hike and climb and play sports and even compete at those things. Acceptance is not the same as giving up.”

“Oh? And how did your interview for the Director of Development position go?” Oakley asked with his first sign of emotion.

Will flushed hot. “Have you been talking to Brandon?”

Oakley looked surprised. “No, but if he said the same thing, then he’s a smart man.”

“I’m not applying for the promotion,” Will said with a sigh, his shoulders sagging.

“You are. Because that job was made for you,” Oakley said.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Will snapped, even though he felt like a child for saying it.

Oakley threw out an arm to the equipment scattered around the room. “You can’t tell me what to do either.”

“I refuse to let you give up something you love just because it gets hard sometimes,” Will fired back.

Oakley didn’t say the words, but the way he stared at Will and gestured sharply at him was as good as calling him a hypocrite.

“There’s a world of difference in not interviewing for a job and throwing out an entire portion of your life,” Will argued. “And by the way, you’re not selling the country house either. You would regret it.”

“And if you don’t even apply for this promotion,” Oakley countered immediately, “then you’ll regret that as well.”

“I—” Will stopped himself from insisting he wouldn’t. Because he probably would. But there was no possible way he could win in the situation he was stuck in now. Either outcome would mean he’d lose something.

And then a compromise struck him out of nowhere. The problem was that he and Oakley were both stubborn arseholes who refused to back down when they’d made up their minds. But right from the start, that had been what motivated them both.

“Alright,” he said, sitting straighter and glaring at Oakley. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“I’m listening,” Oakley said, looking more alive than he had in days.

Will leaned toward him, planting his hands on the arms of Oakley’s chair and smiling viciously at him. “I’ll apply for the job if you and I take a long weekend trip up to Brynthwaite House and you go hiking with me.”

“No,” Oakley answered immediately, turning his head away.

Will pushed back, holding up his hands. “Then I’m not applying for the job.”

Oakley threw a frustrated look at him. The two of them stared at each other for a long time, neither willing to budge an inch.

Then Oakley huffed out a breath and muttered, “Fine. We’ll go out to Keswick for a long weekend, but I can’t promise I’ll go hiking.”

Will thought about challenging him on that, but he was certain that once he got Oakley to his country house, he could change the man’s mind.

“I’ll submit my official application to Dr. Armitage tomorrow,” he said, sitting back and crossing his arms as he watched Oakley’s reaction. “And then next weekend, we’re packing our things and heading out to the mountains.”

Oakley looked at him with a sharpness in his eyes that said he already regretted making the deal. But there was also a deep, burning love there that made Will catch his breath. They might both regret promising things that could smash everything they’d built together, but if they could survive it all, they could survive anything.