Chapter Six

Tyler

Tyler woke groggily, tangled in his sheets. His gaze focused on his prosthesis sitting in the corner. He shifted his right leg, then his left. He waited for the ache in his ghost ankle that meant he needed to try to flex then rotate it, even though that wasn’t possible. Waited for the pin pricks, stabbing and burning in his sole. Waited for the ache that turned him inside out and made him want to swipe, claw and punch at thin air.

Nothing.

He gasped, staring at the ceiling. Thinking. He moved the stump again, from side to side. He pushed back the covers to look at the pale, smooth skin. It looked good. His mind drifted to Holden. He wasn’t na?ve enough to think that one joint meant his pain was gone for good—gone even for one day—but Jesus Christ, this was the first time it had ever happened. He could have wept with joy. And he did. He let out a sob before he stifled it, because Tyler didn’t cry. Not ever.

He shuffled to the edge of the bed, put his right foot down and hopped across to the window, drawing the curtains. He saw Holden immediately in his kitchen standing at the sink. Tyler froze as their gazes met. Holden smiled. With a warm burst of feeling in his chest, Tyler smiled back. He hopped to his crutches. Holden had brought him back here, hadn’t he? He hoped he hadn’t said any stupid shit to him while under the influence, or worse, been inappropriate. My God, what if I made a pass at him? Thrusting his arms into his crutches, he made it out of the bedroom and across the hall to the bathroom where he peed. Then it was into the kitchen for a long drink of cold water while the coffee brewed.

A knock came at the door. Tyler tensed. He put down his glass and made his way down the hall on his crutches. Holden stood on the other side of the door. Man, he looked good that morning. Really fucking good. He was fresh from the shower, judging by his damp, pushed back hair and he wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing a hint of smooth chest. Tyler wanted to taste. He wanted to slide his tongue over Holden’s Adam’s apple and push it into the notch between his collarbones before moving down between his firm pecs and across to lick at one nipple. Fuck. He wondered what sounds Holden would make as Tyler’s tongue left his nipple glistening and hard.

He swallowed, his cock pushing against his zipper.

Holden smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How’s it going?”

“All right.”

“Did you sleep okay?” Holden’s smile widened to a grin. He was teasing.

Tyler groaned. “I’m sorry.”

Holden arched a brow. “What for?”

“For you having to put me to bed.”

“It was my pleasure.” Their gazes held and Tyler found himself blushing. “How’s your leg feeling?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I don’t have any pain this morning.”

Holden gaped at him. “For real?”

“Yeah.”

A slow smile of such happiness lit up Holden’s face that Tyler almost choked up. He actually gives a damn. He actually does. “That’s fucking amazing, Tyler. I’m so glad.”

Tyler bit his lip. “You don’t know what you did for me last night, man.” His voice was small, unsteady.

Holden started to look choked too, and embarrassed. “It was just a joint.”

Tyler shook his head. “I owe you. I owe you big time.” They stared at each other. Tyler half hoped Holden would suggest that he dropped to his knees. He’d be more than happy to repay Holden that way.

“Well, you can get your leg on and come start the painting, how about that?” Holden’s smile was so warm, so goddamn charming.

Tyler nodded. “After coffee. I have to have coffee before I tackle the beast.” He meant the leg, not Holden’s decorating.

Holden looked unsure. “Don’t force it if you’re not ready.”

“I think it’ll be okay,” Tyler said.

Holden stepped back. “There’ll be breakfast waiting when you’re ready.”

Tyler smiled. “See you soon.”

Holden turned away. He lifted a hand as he crossed the yard and disappeared inside. Tyler’s heart was beating hard when he closed the door. He hopped to the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee as a voice started to berate him.

You’re not actually going to make a play for him, right? Do you know how old he is? Forties? Fifties? Your dad’s age!

I’m not sure I fucking care.Tyler’s cock was still hard. He gave it a rub through his shorts. Imagine how experienced he is. Fuck, he probably knows stuff that’ll blow my head off.

Stop. This is not going to have a happy ending.

The only happy ending I want is my dick buried deep in his ass as I pump it full of cum.

Tyler put his coffee down and hopped to the bathroom for a shower. Leaning against the wall with one arm while the hot water rained down on him, he jerked off, imagining Holden on his knees looking up at him with those dark eyes and his mouth full of cock.

Tyler sat on the bed and rolled on the liner. He tore open the plastic package Finn had given him and admired the thick stump socks inside. When he slid them over the pin and up his leg, he felt optimistic that the prosthesis might actually fit properly now. He maneuvered the cup over his stump and stood, wriggling his stump into the socket, backward and forward, applying more pressure, waiting to hear the click.

There.

He stood on two legs, with equal pressure on both, assessing. It felt okay. He rocked the prosthesis to see if it was loose. It felt snug. He stepped forward, good leg first, false leg second. He walked across the bedroom and into the hall to the front door, and back. All felt good, but many days had started off like this before, only for Tyler to be wrenching the leg off an hour down the line and applying another sock. Applying, taking off, doubling, ad nauseam. He was so fucking sick of all the fiddling with the fucking leg. So sick and tired.

He walked right out of the door before he could think anything further. Across the yard he went with no rubbing, no squeezing, no pressure. With his body feeling light, and his heart lighter, he knocked on Holden’s door.

Holden answered with a delicious waft of toast following him out. He glanced down at Tyler’s prosthesis and smiled. He held up his fist for a bump. Tyler tapped his own against it. As he followed Holden inside, he remembered the blowback from last night. Accidentally kissing Holden because he was too stoned to keep his lips an inch apart without falling into the guy. It was a brush of soft lips, that was all, but thinking about it now made Tyler’s mouth tingle. It made him want the firm pressure of Holden’s lips and his tongue in Tyler’s mouth. He thought again of sliding down Holden’s lean body and leaving his nipples glistening with saliva. Leaving a trail right down to Holden’s dick.

He shook his head free of his thoughts as Holden led him into the kitchen where the table was set with a mountain of pancakes and fruit. “Sit down.” Tyler did so. He thanked Holden as he set down a mug of coffee for him before settling himself. “Sugar? Cream?”

“No, thanks.”

Holden speared two pancakes and transferred them to Tyler’s plate before placing two on his own. He gestured to the maple syrup and Tyler helped himself. Holden drank some coffee. “So, I put some dust sheets down, sanded down the baseboards. They’re ready to paint.”

“You’ve been busy,” Tyler said around a mouthful of pancake.

“Yeah.” Holden glanced over his shoulder, down the hallway. “I think I know where the sheriff killed that guy.”

Tyler stared at him.

“There’s some staining on the wood. In the cracks.”

“Jesus Christ.” Tyler shook his head. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t have said anything, you wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Don’t worry.” Holden chewed a strawberry. “I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

Tyler bit his lip.

“I was thinking about Finn,” Holden said. “What he suffered. I was thinking of making domestic abuse the theme of my next book. I haven’t tackled it before.”

Tyler regarded him nonplussed.

Holden looked ashamed. “You’re thinking I’m going to cynically cash in on Finn’s misery.”

Tyler shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Look, you seem like an okay guy, Holden. I don’t think you’re going to do that. Just don’t have the lead character named Finn and don’t have him get boiling water poured on him, okay?”

“I wouldn’t,” Holden said. “But I wondered whether to speak to him. Whether he would be interested in writing his own story with me helping him.”

Once more, Tyler stared.

“I don’t usually write non-fiction,” Holden went on hurriedly, as though disapproval radiated from Tyler in waves. “But I’m interested, particularly as I’m in the house where it happened. Oh God, you think I’m a monster, don’t you?”

Tyler sighed. “No. Maybe it might be what he needs. Catharsis. But maybe it might open up memories he’s tried to bury. Then there’s Brandon. You really think the sheriff of this town will want you writing about how he shot and killed a man here?”

Holden looked crestfallen. “You’re right. It was a bad idea.”

“I never said it was a bad idea, but…you know, you’d have to play it carefully. Finn, he’s a good guy. A really good guy. I hate the idea that he would be hurt by this.”

“Yeah,” Holden said. “I’m sorry.”

“Aren’t you working on a novel at the moment?”

Holden lowered his gaze and poked his pancake. “Oh yeah, I am.” He laughed bitterly. “I’m working on a novel all right.”

Tyler frowned. He waited.

“Come upstairs and I’ll show you what I’m working on.”

Holden’s demeanor had changed. He seemed cold, unreachable. Tyler had to remember that while he was spilling the beans last night about all his troubles, Holden had not reciprocated. This guy had been swindled out of all his money and he hadn’t yet said a word to Tyler about it.

“What sort of stuff do you write?” He made his tone light and soft.

Holden looked up at him and Tyler saw the sort of pain that he was used to only seeing reflected back in the mirror. “Crime thrillers,” he said.

“My favorite.” Tyler smiled. “Finn has your books. He offered to lend me some. Which one should I start with?”

“No need. I have them upstairs. Come up and choose for yourself.”

Twice now Holden had asked him to come upstairs. If he really wanted him up there, Tyler wasn’t going to refuse. He was only a man after all. He put down his fork. “Come on then.”

Holden pushed his chair back. Tyler followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Holden kept a slow pace to match Tyler’s climb. Tyler eyed his ass. Firm and round in a pair of combat pants. He tried to concentrate on his leg to see how it felt as he moved, but he was far more interested in Holden’s ass. Holden was interesting him more and more, period. Tyler would soon have to do something about it, because this itch needed scratching very badly.

Holden led him into a home office, set up with a desk and chair. A second monitor was attached to the laptop. A notebook was open and propped open on a bookstand, revealing an untidy scrawl across both pages. A cup with a black cat on it overflowed with pens.

“Here you go,” Holden said and nudged the mouse so the screen fired up. “Here’s my new novel so far. The cursor blinked a few lines down from the top of a word document. The sole words, in capital letters, read Chapter One.

Tyler sighed. “I’m sorry, man.”

Holden gestured to the crammed bookcase against the far wall. “Mine are on the top shelf.”

Tyler peered at the row of spines. There were five in all. They had Holden’s name in block capitals, in gold on a black background. Tyler pulled out the first one and looked at the cover. Red roses dripping with blood on a black cover. The title was Dig Your Grave. He turned it over to read the blurb.

It was a serial killer in a small town and the FBI called in to help. Some friction with local law enforcement. A depraved killer taunting the police and the sheriff knows more than he’s letting on. Tyler glanced at Holden. “Do you write any…romance in your books?”

Holden smiled knowingly. “Maybe.”

“So, like, does the local sheriff maybe get it on with the FBI guy?” Tyler blushed for sounding like a schoolgirl.

Holden continued to smile. “Would you like that?”

“Sure,” Tyler said. “Men in uniform and all that.” He blushed deeper, hoping Holden didn’t think he had the hots for Finn’s boyfriend. Then he remembered those men in uniform he used to work with and how hot some of them were.

“Yeah,” Holden said. “I get that.” He kept his gaze on Tyler and the room started to become too hot, crackling with danger and testosterone. “Do you read m/m romance?”

“Uh, no,” Tyler said, only having a vague idea what that was.

“If you need a fix of enemies to lovers, I can recommend this.” Holden pulled a thick tome from the middle shelf. It had a half-naked guy on the cover, his army combats open to his waist.

Tyler groaned. “Is this a marine? I don’t think I can really read…”

“Sure you can. It’ll make you forget everything for a while.”

Tyler regarded him. “Is this a one-handed read, Holden?”

Holden laughed. “You bet it is. You’ll get everything from there that you won’t get from mine.”

Tyler looked at both books. “I still want to read yours.”

Holden looked pleased. “Good.”

They gazed at each other for a moment. Tyler was going to have to kiss him. There was no two ways about it. He needed it like the air he breathed. He took a step forward just as Holden said, “Well, let’s get started,” and turned around, and just like that, the chance was gone.