20. Cane

He'd never thought he'd like waking up to someone until he met Hart all those years ago. He just didn't think he'd like people in his space when he was vulnerable. Even with her it had been uncomfortable. And then the cursebreaker had crashed into his life and just flipped it upside down in every way Cane could fucking imagine.

Waking up to Hart, naked and warm from sleep felt right. It felt exactly as it should. Except for one tiny detail.

Hart's behavior.

His clothes were strewn all over his room, there was a near full ashtray on the windowsill, and his alarm clock had been snoozed more times than Cane could count. He was insatiable in bed, and as true as that had been for them before, it now felt…different.

Cane couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt it clearly. Like someone or something else was the driving force behind Hart's actions. Like his mind just turned off sometimes and allowed something primal to take over. It was unsettling.

Cane frowned and stretched his aching body, his mind not allowing him to come to the right conclusions that early in the morning. His wounds still felt tight and tender. Because he wasn't giving them time to heal. Hart was on him every waking moment when they were alone, and Cane knew he'd never tell him no.

Hart hadn't given him a clear response yet. Cane didn't know if they were for real this time around. And somewhere deep down, he knew he was taking everything Hart was willing to give on the off chance the answer was no. Just in case Hart walked away again.

He wanted more from him. Something he could keep for after they crashed and burned.

He turned onto his side, looking at Hart sprawled on his stomach, his naked back littered with the bite marks and bruises Cane had left on his body in the few days since he'd moved into the cursebreaker home.

He leaned over to kiss his naked shoulder, softer than he had in a while…maybe ever. They weren't gentle with each other. It just wasn't how it worked between them. But it didn't mean Cane saw Hart as anything less than exactly what he wanted in life.

He pulled the covers over Hart and tucked him in before slipping out of bed and pulling a pair of black sweatpants and a white undershirt on over the messy wrapping he'd applied to his ribs. He got himself sorted in the bathroom and padded out of the room in search of coffee and hopefully something to eat since they'd skipped dinner last night. Again.

He clicked the door behind him shut and turned to the stairs, stopping when he heard a soft voice coming from just around the corner.

"Wren?" The voice was a whisper, so Cane couldn't really tell who it was. "We haven't seen you in days. Can you please come out?"

There was silence in response, a soft knock following it.

"Come on," the voice said again. "Please just talk to us."

No response again.

"Okay." A heavy sigh followed the word. "I'll leave some breakfast for you. We're here whenever you're ready."

Cane heard steps and figured he probably wasn't fucking wanted as part of that conversation, so he strode down the stairs before he could be seen.

He rushed into the kitchen, barely entering through the door when he heard steps coming from behind him and turned to see Fix walking in, his face pinched in a worried expression.

"Cane!" he said when he saw him, as if shocked to find someone else up and in his personal space. "Good morning."

"Morning," Cane replied, eyes glued to the tense set of Fix's shoulders and the deep frown between his brows.

Fix turned and grabbed two mugs from one of the cabinets. "Coffee?"

Cane nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen counter and folding his hands on top of it while he waited for Fix to pour. It wasn't exactly a harmonious environment since the blow up. Everyone was walking on eggshells.

"Anything in it?" Fix asked.

"Nah. Just black."

Fix handed him a mug, and Cane lifted it in silent acknowledgment before taking a sip. He watched Fix over the rim, seemingly deep in thought as he sipped his own coffee in silence.

Cane knew the man wasn't too happy about having him around, but he seemed to be polite to a fault, and not in the same way Hart was. Hart's politeness always seemed practiced. Polished. Fix just…seemed to be a people pleaser. He treated Cane like a welcome guest when Cane knew he was anything but, fielding Ash's dumb comments and wrangling Black away from him whenever his questions got too invasive. Which was pretty much every five minutes.

He seemed to know where Midas was at any given time, and while Cane wasn't sure he'd ever even seen Wren before, Fix was making sure there was always food made and ready for him.

His mind flashed back to a conversation he'd had with Hart in the hallway of Cane's apartment, about Hart's team and the dynamics that held them together. Hart seemed to be the glue that kept them together, but Fix was the one making sure all the parts of the machine were well oiled and running.

The two of them were like bookends, and the failure of one seemed to be toppling everything. The change in Hart was so noticeable, and it seemed to be putting everyone in the house on edge.

"Hart still asleep?" Fix asked, going for casual but landing about fifteen miles away from it with how his brow pinched and his voice sounded strained.

"Yup," Cane said. "He was up late last night."

"Yeah we…we heard," Fix said, and Cane had the decency to look away for a second. He wasn't ashamed of what he'd been doing with Hart. He didn't care that they heard or knew. He'd been asking Hart to finally do it, to tell them so they didn't have to hide and pretend, but it was so obviously out of the norm in the house, and not at all how Cane had pictured it going.

"Sorry," he said, knowing it didn't really sound sincere. It was the best he could do. Nobody would ever accuse Cane of being polite. So there was that.

"It's fine," Fix said tersely, sounding like it was a lot of things, but fine wasn't even on the list. "Any new ideas on the case?"

"No." Cane shook his head. "I've been lying low for days now, but we have no clues and my business is fucked, so anything new that happens is just a continuation of that."

"Are the police still on your back?" Fix asked, and Cane shrugged.

"Always have been, always will be," he said. "There's no escaping that in my…line of work."

"Have they released…I'm sorry, I forgot his name."

"Ares. Yeah. They let him go. We talked. Squared shit up."

"You trust him?" Fix asked carefully, knowing how loaded the question was.

"I don't have much choice at the moment. He followed the exact same pattern as everyone else around me fucking up, so until we know more, I'm gonna have to take his word for it that it was the curse. And since we're at a dead end…"

Fix nodded and sighed, taking a sip from his mug and leaning against the counter across from Cane. "So you don't know Arianna?"

Cane paused, looking at Fix questioningly, the name not ringing any bells. "Arianna?"

"Layton," Fix said like that fucking explained anything.

"Who's Arianna Layton?" Cane asked.

The response seemed to throw Fix completely off. He put his mug down with more force than was necessary, coffee sloshing over the edge. Fix fussed over the spill for a second before stilling and clutching the dishrag in his hands. He looked up at Cane with a worried expression.

"Arianna Layton is someone who might have something to do with your curse. The morning before you were attacked, Hart was in a meeting with a cursebreaker from Arcstead who delivered the information to us but had no further context. Just the name and the instruction to give it to Hart."

The news floored Cane.

Hart had had a meeting with someone about Cane's case. He'd gotten information. He'd gotten a name. And then he'd come back to Cane, fucked him, and pretended it was all fine while keeping a huge fucking thing from him.

It felt way too familiar. The stab of betrayal. The fog being lifted from in front of his eyes and the person he saw in one light suddenly being someone completely different.

He'd thought he knew Hart.

Fuck, he'd thought he was the only one that did.

"He didn't tell me," he said through gritted teeth, gripping the edge of the counter to keep himself from smacking the fucking cup off it and watching it shatter.

He didn't tell me.

Fix shifted from foot to foot as if sensing the oncoming storm building within him. "Black asked his PUMA contacts to check the name, and we know it's connected to a case Ash worked a few months ago. We don't know anything more than that. Hart was supposed to ask you if the name rang any bells."

"Well he didn't fucking ask," Cane snapped.

Fix sighed, running a hand over his face.

"This is getting out of hand," Fix said, putting his hand down and looking at Cane. "I know we don't know each other well, but I think it's safe to say the same isn't true for Hart. You…know him."

"I thought I did." Cane laughed without humor. He walked over to the sink and threw the coffee cup into it. It shattered on impact, and he stared at the ceramic shards, feeling like he was staring at a vision of his own insides. It sated the need for destruction for all of one second before it was back again full force. "But apparently that person has been fucking me over for days."

"This isn't him," Fix said. "Cane, listen, there is something seriously messed up with him lately. You have to have noticed. Ever since you got here—"

"So it's my fault?" Cane cut him off, turning on him.

"I don't want it to sound like I'm blaming you."

"But you are," Cane said, crossing the distance between them and getting in his face. They were of similar height, but Fix was a little broader. Cane didn't fucking care. "You want me to be the bad guy so bad, but it's your brother who has been screwing me over and taking me for a fucking ride."

"And does that sound like him?" Fix asked, refusing to back down. "Has anything Hart has been doing or saying lately made any fucking sense to you?"

Cane panted through his nose, trying to hold back the rage, the betrayal eating him up. No, it didn't fucking sound like Hart, but it sounded exactly like everyone who'd ever mattered in Cane's life. Like a fucking lie.

"He's not himself," Fix said. "He keeps saying he's fine, but something is seriously wrong. I've been thinking about your curse, and maybe—"

"Well isn't this cozy." A voice came from the entrance to the kitchen, and both Fix and Cane snapped their heads around to find Hart standing there, his expression a studied mask in irritation and annoyance. It pulled his mouth tight. It narrowed his eyes. It made him look like a different person entirely.

"Hart," Fix said, but before he could say anything else, Hart stormed inside. He forced himself between them so they both had to stumble back.

"Is this what we're doing now?" Hart asked. He was glaring at them both. "Talking behind each other's backs? Insinuating things?"

"We weren't." Fix tried to defuse the situation. Cane had noticed it was his default setting.

"And lying now, too!" Hart raised his voice, his face contorting into a grimace. "I heard you. Getting out of hand. This isn't me. Who do you think it is then? Since you both know me so well."

Cane wanted to argue with him, he wanted to jump in and reason with him, but he was so angry about being kept in the dark, so hurt by it that he couldn't even bring himself to look at Hart properly for fear of what he might say.

"You were eavesdropping?" Fix asked, seemingly incredulous at the thought of Hart stooping so low.

"I have every right to know when it's about me," Hart said.

The words were like a key to a lock, and the next sentence fell out of Cane's mouth unbidden, but dripping in venom. "That's rich coming from you."

Hart looked at him, mouth open wide. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

That he had the nerve to look him in the eye tore Cane up. Made the anger burn hotter.

"Arianna Layton?" Cane sneered at him. "Ring any bells, Hart? Apparently, she has something to do with my case, and yet there've been crickets from you. You couldn't find the time to mention that little piece of information, but you had all the time in the world to ask me to fuck you repeatedly over the last few days."

"I…" Hart clicked his mouth shut.

"You what?" Cane said. "Thought I didn't need that information? Thought you could decide for me?"

"I forgot!" Hart snapped back, eyes wild as he looked at Cane, clearly still defensive, almost mad with it.

"You forgot?" Fix asked, worry written all over his face.

"Yes, I forgot. Is that a crime?"

"Not a crime," Fix said. "But clearly a symptom of something. Hart…you don't forget things about your work. Not things as important as that."

Hart spun on him, advancing. "So now you're saying I'm bad at my job?"

Fix backpedaled, raising his hands in the air. "I never said that—"

"Well you're saying something, Fix," he said, vibrating in place. "Clearly it's something when all of a sudden you two are all friendly, having coffee and talking shit about me when just three days ago you could barely stand to be in the same room with each other."

"Hart," Cane said. "Calm the fuck down. If anyone has a right to be mad here, it sure as fuck isn't you!"

"Clearly it's something when I'm being accused of keeping secrets on purpose," he continued, like he couldn't stop, like he hadn't heard Cane at all. "You all obviously think it's fucking something, so how about you say it to my face."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Ash asked loudly, walking unknowingly onto the battlefield with Black hot on his heels.

Fucking fantastic.

"Nothing," Fix said. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not nothing," Hart snapped, whirling toward Ash and Black, who recoiled visibly, taking a step back and away from him. "It's national Shit on Hart Day and you're welcome to join."

"That's a new one," Black said uncertainly, clearly trying to ease the tension like he seemed to do often, but failing miserably at it.

"Apparently I'm fucking shit up left, right, and center, and we're gathered here now so I can be in the know about all the things I've done wrong lately," Hart said, holding his arms out. "So have at it. You had a lot to say the other day."

Black frowned, looking at Fix for guidance, who just shook his head to get him to stand down. But Ash, the fucking hothead, clearly was not picking up any of the signals. He'd mostly been out of the house since the argument, presumably staying at Morgan's. This was the first time the two brothers had met since then, and it was like someone had just pressed play on them again, starting them right back at the same place.

"Since when do you swear, Saint Hart?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not very becoming of you."

Hart exploded. Like that one tiny thing was enough to set him off completely. "Since I'm a fucking adult and free to do whatever the fuck I want!" he yelled, squaring up to Ash.

Ash, on his best day, didn't like people getting all up in his face.

"Never said you couldn't, man," Ash said, pushing Hart's shoulder. "But how about you get yourself out of my face so we can talk like normal people."

"Oh, so now you want to talk?" Hart asked, erratic and clearly hearing only what he wanted to hear.

"We've been wanting to talk to you for days about why you're acting so insane," Ash said. Again, wrong thing to say.

"So it's my fault again that you can't," Hart threw back.

"You fucking said it," he said. "Not simple to talk to someone hellbent on having a dick up his ass twenty-four seven."

"My sex life is none of your fucking business! Any of you!" Hart yelled at the top of his lungs. It was a tone and level Cane had never heard before, bordering on frightening.

"It's my business when it impacts all of us!" Ash shouted back, fists clenching by his thighs, clearly done with restraining himself. "There's a list of people waiting for you to help them, we've been working your cases for you for days now, you literally have not asked about Wren, who's clearly going through something and needs us right now. You even tried to fuck with my boyfriend. And I'd be fine with all of that if you were actually working Cane's case instead of just his dick. But you're not, so forgive us for being slightly frustrated by it!"

"Ash…" Fix said softly after the tirade, but it was way too late for any of that.

Silence washed over them, and Hart stood in the middle of the wasteland that had been created, breath coming in short puffs. Hart turned to look at Black, who looked down, silent for the first time since Cane had met him. Hart looked at Fix next, clearly searching for someone to be on his side.

Finally, he looked at Cane.

"You're not gonna say anything?" he asked, voice hoarse from the screaming. Cane felt some of the anger ebb in the face of the worry he was feeling.

He agreed with the others. Hart wasn't himself. Cane didn't recognize the person in front of him at all.

"Fuck you," Hart said when Cane took too long to answer. "Fuck all of you. If this is how you feel then I'm out. Clearly, all I'm doing is creating trouble for everyone, so have at it without me."