24. Tate

CHAPTER 24

TATE

My head didn’t feel much better after lunch, but Brooks texting me for my office address and getting me snacks and water delivered at three did wonders for the ache of it all. Digging through the kraft paper bag to see what all was inside, I swiped at my phone with my other hand, firing off a quick text to him in thanks.

Me : Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.

His reply was almost immediate.

Brooks : I consider it my job to take care of you now.

Me : Your job is just to fuck me until I forget my name, wash my feet, and then take me to Italy for pasta on a date sometime.

Three dots appeared on the screen, then disappeared, reappeared, then they were gone again. Chuckling, I turned my attention back to the bag of goodies he’d had sent to me, finding a package of vitamins at the bottom which were specially selected for hangovers. I took the bundle of supplements, then texted Brooks again.

Me : I was joking about Italy.

Me : I just remembered you said that last time.

He didn’t answer right away, and I cracked open a bag of some salty potato chips. The sodium was magic, and by the time I’d eaten my way through them, I almost felt normal again. My phone buzzed with a message, so I tucked everything except a small chocolate bar back into the bag and stashed it under my desk. The message was from Brooks, because of course it was.

Brooks : You’re the one without a passport, Tate.

Brooks : I wish you would remedy that.

Me : I don’t necessarily have a spare hundred and whatever dollars lying around, Brooks.

My phone rattled with a different vibration pattern, alerting me about a pending hundred and fifty dollar cash transfer. I sighed, giving a quick scan of the office to see if my boss was anywhere in sight. He was holed up in the conference room on the front end of a two-hour meeting with our product development team, so I reasoned I had a little bit of spare time to make a personal call to Brooks.

“Don’t be mad,” he answered instead of saying hello.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, frowning at the dollar signs on my screen, even as I initiated the transfer to my bank account.

“What if I wanted authentic Italian food?” he asked.

“I’m sure there’s restaurants in the tri-state area that could fit the bill,” I murmured.

“There’s not, but it’s cute that you think so.”

“You don’t need to pay for my passport,” I said again.

“Is that not part of taking care of you?” he asked, and I could picture the seriousness on his face with the question. “I’m not trying to pay your rent or move you out of that shoebox apartment you and Dylan share. Consider this a selfish move if it makes you feel better.”

“Selfish?” I laughed. “How so?”

“Take pity on a man with no creativity when it comes to dating so he relies on flashy jets and foreign countries to impress the man he…” Brooks trailed off, and my breath caught in my throat. “If it really bothers you, you can cancel the transfer.”

We both knew it was too late for that.

“I just don’t feel deserving of it,” I told him.

“And I don’t feel deserving of you, so we’ll have to fight through those wrong ideas together, darling.”

Again, with the darling.

“Okay,” I agreed softly, nodding even though he couldn’t see me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“And thank you for the care package. The chips have done wonders for my mental stability today.”

On the other end of the phone he chuckled. “Can I see you after work tonight?”

I opened the top drawer of my desk and felt around for the rolling bottle of ibuprofen, chasing four tablets down with a swig from the electrolyte water that Brooks had sent with the afternoon delivery.

“I would like that, but Dylan…” I groaned, scrubbing a hand down my face.

Dylan and I had talked about the basics of his situation while I was getting ready for work that morning, but it felt like there were still a dozen things left unsaid between us.

“I’ve asked a friend to check in on him,” Brooks said.

“Alex?”

He hummed his agreement.

“That’s great, but he’s still my best friend.”

“Then text him,” Brooks suggested. “If you’re not happy with the response, go see him after work and come over if you feel better about him.”

“And if I don’t feel better?”

“Then I’ll try again tomorrow.”

The answer was so simple, so precise. So not demanding.

“Alright,” I agreed. “I’ll let you know.”

“Dylan is going to be okay,” he assured me.

The door to the conference room opened and the head of our product development team came out, looking red in the face and far from amused.

“I need to go,” I said quickly. “Sorry.”

“Bye, Tate.”

I barely caught the goodbye before I dropped the phone back onto the base. It clattered a little louder than I would have liked, but my boss was in a heated conversation across the room. They’d clearly just taken their disagreement out for some fresh air. A couple minutes later, they both returned to the conference room and closed the door. I watched it for a beat to make sure it stayed closed, then texted Dylan.

Me : How are you?

Five minutes later, I had my reply

Dylan : My head hurts, but I’m lying in the dark and that seems to help.

Me : Do you need me? To talk or help you at all?

I didn’t know what I could do for him, but I wanted to offer. I didn’t want him to feel alone after what he’d shared with me.

Dylan : I’m okay for now, but we can talk soon.

Dylan : I’ll answer any questions you have.

Me : I don’t want to ask more than you’re willing to share. I just want to be there for you. You’re my best friend.

Dylan : Same.

Dylan : I’m okay, Tate. I promise.

I didn’t have much to do besides take Dylan at his word, and if he was alone in the dark, there was no real point in me going home after work for that. Before I convinced myself that was exactly what I needed to do, I texted Brooks again.

Me : I’m free after work.

Brooks : I told you he was okay.

Brooks : Do you need to get fresh clothes?

Me : I shoul d

Brooks : Come over when you’re ready then. I’ll order in.

Me : Sorry we can’t have dinner in Italy lol

Brooks : I’ll send you more money to expedite the processing, Tate.

Brooks : See you tonight.

I unwrapped the chocolate bar and popped a bite into my mouth. It tasted like heaven, and I knew without looking up the name of the wrapper on the internet that it was the most expensive chocolate I’d ever had. I’d barely swallowed it when my boss was out of the conference room again with a mile long list of things he needed me to do. The distraction of my job made the day go by faster, and before I knew it, I was home.

Dylan’s bedroom door was closed and his lights were off, but I could hear the careful and quiet strumming of his guitar through the door. I reached into the care package from Brooks and found the second chocolate bar, then shoved it under Dylan’s door. The chords quieted and he set his guitar down. I didn’t hear his footsteps, but I recognized the sound of the paper being crumpled as he tore into the bar.

“Thank you,” he said, mouth full. “I’m fine, I promise.”

“I’m going to Brooks’ place,” I told him through the door. “If you need anything, will you call me?”

“I’ll call.”

I didn’t have a choice except to believe him, so I left him with the chocolate and headed across the apartment to my bedroom. There was an empty soda can in the sink, which was infinitely better than an empty liquor bottle, so I called it a win and stripped out of my work clothes. After tossing them in the hamper, I grabbed a clean pair of slacks and a polo shirt for work the next day, then redressed myself in jeans and a coffee shop t-shirt I’d picked up at a gig with Dylan the summer before. I put on my shoes and checked on Dylan once more, then headed downstairs.

The last thing I expected, though I don’t know why, was to come out of my building and find a black town car idling alongside the curb, the driver resting against the trunk and scrolling through his phone. When the door closed behind me, he looked up and quickly shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Mr. Barlowe?” he asked.

It was impossible to not smile. Like Brooks and I had made a commitment to each other and it meant all restraint was off. He had warned me before that he didn’t do things in half measures, that he worried about being too much, but…as much as I wanted to protest about the level of attention he gave me, I didn’t have it in me to do it. It had been so long since I’d had anyone to take care of me, the attention was welcome, even if it would take some getting used to.

“That’s me,” I said, adjusting my duffel bag on my shoulder.

The driver reached for the bag and I passed it to him, climbing into the back seat of the car after he opened the door. I buckled up and then texted Brooks that the car hadn’t been necessary. He told me he knew, but he wanted to anyway. The usual current of defiance was absent from the message, and I pressed my phone against my chest and closed my eyes with a smile.

The doorman let me up as soon as I walked into Brooks’ building and when I stepped off the elevator, I found him in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his arms folded in front of his chest, his legs crossed at the ankle. When he saw me, he smiled, and it took all my self-control to not run headfirst into his arms. Instead, I walked a little faster than normal, dipping my face into the crook of his neck and letting him bring his arms around me.

“Glad to see you vertical,” he murmured, kissing my ear.

“Your care package certainly helped.” I shifted enough that our mouths were in line, and I hesitated long enough so he could be the one to initiate the kiss. With his lips less than a breath away from mine, Brooks smiled, then slanted our mouths together with an intention so clear, I worried I was going to come in the hallway.

With our mouths still connected, he reached around and took my bag out of my hand and tossed it into the entryway behind him, and with his other arm still wrapped around me, he walked us both backward into his penthouse. As soon as the door was closed behind me, my back was against it, Brooks’ hands on either side of my face, caging me in while he deepened the kiss. I curled my fingers around his waist and bucked my hips toward him, which earned me a hand down my pants and a rough fist around my quickly thickening shaft.

“I wanted you so badly last night,” he whispered against the corner of my mouth, his thumb pressing a hard line against my leaking slit. “You were so drunk, so loose. I couldn’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to throw you around and fuck you until you cried for me.”

I moaned against him, wanton and unrestrained. My blood burned, setting my skin on fire with every drag of his hand against mine, the wet press of his mouth.

“Why didn’t you?” I whispered .

His tongue licked back into my mouth, smile still curving across his lips.

“You weren’t anywhere near the level of consent I require,” he said, sinking his teeth into my lower lip. I winced, pushing my entire body off the door and right into his arms.

“But now?”

Brooks’ hard cock pressed against my thigh, hot and long. “Now, Tate, I think you’re just my type.”