Chapter Nineteen

Fighter leaned his head back on the new couch and stretched out his legs. When Brick reentered the room carrying popcorn and two beers, Fighter gladly took one of the drinks.

He loved the new design of the room he now slept in. Instead of a bed, he’d opted for a sleeper sofa. In here, he’d given in and allowed new cream-colored carpeting to be installed, and was looking forward to seeing the finished room. What he hadn’t done was permitted a wide screen television like Brick had wanted. Even when Brick pouted about not being able to watch TV comfortably, Fighter had stayed firm.

Fiddling with the laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch, Brick pulled up his Prime account and selected an action movie. “It’s the 4th Expendables.”

“Oh cool. I haven’t seen that one.”

Brick hit play and settled in next to him.

“So…where’s your sister?”

Fighter gave a slight smile, popped open the can of beer, and took a drink. He’d known Brick had questions, but he figured it would be about his mother’s meltdown, not his sister. The man constantly surprised him.

It had been an hour since his mother’s exit and only twenty minutes since both Mark and Bishop had gone as well, locking the place up as they left. Yet, Fighter felt a weariness to his bones.

“She’s…” He flicked a finger at the tab on the can, it made a soft pinging noise that was almost lost beneath the opening noise of the movie. “In a rehab center.”

“Sometimes that’s the only way to get better.”

Fighter glanced up at the understanding words and found the same kind look in Brick’s eyes.

“It’s a private facility that her boyfriend paid for.”

“When does she get out?”

“Next month.”

Fighter was startled when Brick reached over and took his free hand and linked their fingers. It wasn’t the first touch they’d shared, but his mouth went dry. He’d only previously touched Brick in anger and he wasn’t sure what to do or say when Brick gently used his other hand to curl his fingers tightly over his. Fighter swept his gaze up and Brick was staring right at him.

“Are we going to watch the movie?” Fighter swallowed and his lips parted when Brick slowly leaned his head down toward him.

He knew his eyes were probably the size of saucers, but he waited until Brick’s lips touched his in a soft, tentative kiss.

“We sure are,” Brick whispered against his lips before drawing back with a slow smile. Fighter licked at his own dry bottom lip before he took a hasty swallow of beer.

“A movie, popcorn, and beer.” Fighter smiled.

“Definitely a date.”

The sip of beer went down wrong and he choked and coughed while Brick gently patted his back.

A date.

When was the last time he’d been on a date? Hell, he couldn’t remember.

He settled in next to Brick and their arms touched, neither of them willing to break the contact. They finished the beer and ate a bit of the popcorn staying in that same position until halfway through the movie. That was when Brick shifted sideways, draped his long legs over the arm of the couch, and placed his head in his lap. Fighter stayed still for a few moments and then combed his fingers through Brick’s hair.

The man gazed up at him for several moments, but Fighter kept his eyes locked on the screen. Eventually, Brick turned his face to the laptop. Fighter did everything he could not to let his cock do the talking.

But really, would that be a bad thing?

It would if the kids woke up. But Emma never did during the night and Elijah was ten months old and he’d sleep until about five in the morning. Gazing down, he studied Brick’s strong profile and trailed his fingers along his jaw and through the man’s perfectly groomed beard. Brick’s eyes drifted shut and his breathing evened out. On the one hand, it was nice that Brick felt comfortable enough to relax around him, and on the other hand, Fighter was fucking turned on with no outlet.

He could wait, he decided. He felt sorry for all the pain Brick’s previous relationships had caused. Brick clearly didn’t trust. Did that still include him? Brick knew without a doubt that he’d been joking around that night. Still, he had to be careful.

“Whatcha thinkin’?”

Fighter flicked his gaze to Brick when the softly murmured words floated between them. “Of how you had grown up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean. Did your parents buy you a lot of stuff?”

Brick cleared his throat and shifted a bit, rolling his head in his lap until he was gazing up at him.

“My dad.” Brick’s tone sounded flat and empty.

Fighter stroked the top of Brick’s head. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t need to be a psychic to hear the dullness in the words. “Sometimes people have trouble showing they care.”

“My dad didn’t give a shit about me, Syn, or my mom. When we wanted his time and attention, he sent us on vacations. Always together but never with him.”

Fighter had his free hand tucked between Brick’s ribs and the couch, trying to keep it out of the way, but Brick tugged it out and placed his hand flat on his chest. The heat through the man’s shirt thrummed through his palm.

“You know… you don’t need to buy us things,” Fighter said, trying to convey what he was feeling. It wasn’t like he could say, “You don’t need to buy our love,” because love wasn’t there yet, but Brick didn’t need to show he cared about them by throwing money at them.

Something flickered in Brick’s eyes. Maybe it was realization? Fighter figured it was because Brick closed his eyes and his brow creased.

“I’m doing the same damned thing,” the man whispered and slowly lifted his lids.

The painful expression on Brick’s face made Fighter press his palm firmly on the man’s chest. His other hand he snaked around and cupped Brick’s jaw, running his thumb lightly at the corner of the man’s mouth. Brick’s mustache tickled his fingers.

The man’s throat moved with a hard swallow. “What can I do differently?”

Fighter smiled. “I’ll show you.”

Brick’s lips pursed and kissed his fingers and when Fighter leaned over, Brick lifted up to press his mouth to his. It was awkward and they couldn’t get a good lip lock until Brick shifted up to sit and pulled him into his arms. Fighter brushed his parted lips against Brick’s and their tongues were suddenly tangled. Fighter groaned and unbuttoned the front of Brick’s shirt, running his hands over the tattoos on his smooth chest as their mouths pressed, nibbled, and licked. Brick drew back, panting, and they pressed their foreheads together. Fighter finally asked the question he’d been dying to ask ever since he’d gotten a look at the name tattooed on the side of Brick’s neck.

“Who’s Jersigirl Skyler?” He ran his fingers lightly over the ink.

Brick smiled slightly. “My best friend.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she passed away right before I joined the military. Her name was my first tattoo. I carried her into battle with me.”

“Was she your girlfriend?”

“She was.” Brick nodded.

“So, you’re bi.”

“Yes.”

“I’m gay.”

Brick brushed fingers up his arm and curled his big hand at the back of Fighter’s neck. The caressing fingers sent goosebumps over Fighter.

“My mom hates me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Brick said, pulling him close and when those strong arms tightened around him, Fighter sank closer.

“Change the subject?” Fighter rested his cheek against Brick’s shoulder.

“Sure. How’d your meeting go today?”

Damn it. He’d tensed up and surely Brick had felt it.

“It went as well as could be expected.”

“Need any help?”

Fighter knew Brick was ready to throw money at his problem, but in all good consciousness, he would not, he could not ask Brick to help him out. If the man wanted to help him, he could invest in a partnership.

“I don’t need help with that meeting. I could use a business partner. Not you,” he said quickly when Brick pulled back to hold his stare. “For some reason, I’m having trouble getting anyone to invest in my business. Which is…was really successful.”

Brick frowned and caressed a hand down his arm. “Neither banks nor private investors?”

“Yeah, it’s like I’m being blocked and I don’t know how or why.” He dropped his gaze for a moment and then lifted it and gave a guilty smile. “I thought at first it was you.”

“It’s not.”

“Oh, I knew it right after I thought it that you wouldn’t be so underhanded.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“But you did underbid my job.”

“Only one job,” Brick admitted with a grimace. “Never again, I promise.” Brick’s hand trailed to his wrist and linked their fingers.

Fighter searched those gray eyes filled with regret, and he knew without a doubt that the night of the fundraiser would have ended similar to this if they hadn’t gotten into that argument.

“Promise me something else.”

“Okay.”

“Stop spending so much.” He cupped the sides of Brick’s neck and caressed his jaw with his thumbs.

“I haven’t spent that much.”

“Maybe not in your eyes, but I need you to tone it down.”

Brick smirked a half smile and nodded, the man’s beard brushing against his fingers.

A knock at the door jerked Fighter away and he almost toppled off the couch, but Brick caught him.

“Yes?” Fighter called and shifted away to put a few feet between him and Brick.

“Fighter?” Mark called out, muffled through the wood before he cracked the door open.

“What’s up?” Fighter scooted farther down the couch. That was all he needed, crap from Mark, not to mention the guy had no filter. If a person wanted anything found out, then all they had to do was tell Mark.

“Oh, hey Brick,” Mark said, stepping inside the room and shutting the door. The scratches on his face stood out starkly as well as the white bandage he’d earlier wrapped around the man’s arm.

“Hey.” Brick tossed Mark a squinting glance and then focused on the laptop.

“I thought you went home?” Fighter squinted at Mark.

“I did, but I need gun oil. Can I borrow some?”

“Sure.”

“Movie!” Mark said and instead of leaving like Fighter had hoped, the man stepped over Brick’s outstretched legs and plopped down on the space between them. Mark leaned closer to the computer screen. “Is this the new Expendables?”

“Yep.” Fighter gave Brick a pained look over Mark’s bent back.

“Oh! Popcorn.” Mark grabbed the bowl.

So much for a quiet night getting to know one another. He was going to need to set down some hard rules for Mark and he hoped that it wouldn’t affect their friendship.

Then Brick winked and Fighter felt like he’d won the lottery.