Jason sat back, staring. “Jesus. I don’t want to get into another argument, especially over something that’s over and done, but you do need to understand that, friends or not, I get to make these decisions for myself, Sam.”
“Sure.” Sam’s face remained perfectly, unrelentingly blank. He was saying the right thing, but Jason didn’t imagine for one minute that Sam regretted or even second-guessed his decision to keep him out of harm’s way.
It was like talking to a wall. Uh, no, it was like hitting your head against a wall.
Jason wanted to understand. Wanted to somehow break through the barrier. Because if Sam felt Jason was too important to take chances with, well, Jason felt Sam was too important not to try to reach some kind of détente with.
“I get that losing Ethan might have—”
Sam said in a hard, flat voice, “This is not about Ethan.”
“No? Are you sure about that? Because your attitude is not exactly nor-reasonable.”
“You’re welcome to your opinion. I’ve got a lot more experience in this area than you do.” His smile was bleak. “Come to think of it, I’ve got a lot more experience in every area than you do.”
Jason hung on to his temper. “Which doesn’t change the fact that you don’t get to make those decisions for me.”
Sam tapped his fingertips on the edge of the table in restless, unconscious tattoo. He caught himself at once. His hand stilled. He said, “It’s late. In a minute we’re going to be arguing. I think we should both get some sleep.”
Going to be arguing? Jason opened his mouth, but Sam was right in that Jason didn’t want to fight with him, and he definitely didn’t want to fight when they were both tired and already irritated with each other. This was a conversation they needed to have, though, because of course this was partly about Ethan. How could it not be?
“Okay,” he said curtly.
Sam hesitated.
Jason rose, and Sam said, “I’ll clear up in here.”
Whatever. Great. Jason washed up in the master bathroom, too tired after all for a shower, too frustrated to want to be left alone with his thoughts. Sleep was what he needed. A good night’s sleep would help him look at things with fresh perspective.
When he left the bathroom, he found Sam stripping down in the bedroom. In the soft lamplight, Sam’s bare skin had a warm glow, like living marble. Their eyes met. Neither spoke. How illogical was it that Jason could be feeling resentful, dissatisfied with Sam’s highhanded behavior, but the sight of Sam’s naked, muscular body left him rock-hard and dry-mouthed with desire?
They undressed in silence and, still not speaking, got into bed.
The disreputable-looking jar of Medicine Man Salve sat on the bed stand next to Jason’s side. No comforting backrub or handjob tonight. He picked the jar up, noting the lack of an ingredients label. He set the jar back down.
As though following his thoughts, Sam said, “You should rub that in. It’ll help.”
Jason nodded, once more picking up the container. He unscrewed the lid. “The way it smells, I’m surprised the jar doesn’t explode.”
Sam said nothing, gazing at the ceiling, as enigmatic and self-contained as one of those bronze statues of St. George contemplating how to best slay dragons.
Jason slowly, laboriously rubbed in the pungent cream, then made his way back to the bathroom to wash the residue off his hands.
When he returned to the bed, Sam turned his head. “It’s not just physical,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“You’ve experienced a traumatic event. You think you’re fine, but it takes time to work through it. That’s the reason for the sick leave.”
Jason opened his mouth to reject this, deny it, but honesty held him silent. He shrugged, then admitted, “Okay. Maybe that’s true.”
That seemed to be all Sam had to say on the matter.
Jason turned out the lamp, climbed carefully into bed. The afternoon’s hike had not done him any favors.
Neither moved. The silence was acute, excruciating. It was so quiet, Jason could hear Sam’s wristwatch ticking away on the other nightstand.
Somebody say something, he thought, and then had to smother a nervous laugh. Sam was lying a couple of inches from him, but he had never felt so far apart.