Deserted - Auctioned

Because it was easy to see how that would end. Gray would fall in love. He’d depend on Darius too much, who would eventually leave.

Which ultimately became the reason Gray let that go and refocused on the topic change about making him stronger. Darius thought he was finally ready? Thank fucking Christ. ’Cause if anyone needed to feel less pathetic, it was Gray.

“How do we start?” he asked. “Or where?”

“Up to you,” Darius answered. “Instead of continuing toward California, we could head north for a few days. I have a friend in Colorado who can help.”

Anything to prolong their journey, Gray wanted to say. Instead, he asked, “Is it possible to get there in one day?”

Darius shrugged and squinted. “Should be. I’d say it’s about twelve hours to Keystone.”

“We can drive in shifts,” Gray offered.

Darius nodded. “I’ll give Connor a call, then.”“Finally.” Gray peered over his shoulder to find Jayden asleep in the back seat. They’d been on the road for eight hours, stopping for lunch and to stretch their legs, and the entire time Gray had kept their previous subject in the back of his mind. He wanted to know what Darius meant about being weaker than Gray. “Okay, we can talk now,” he said, keeping his voice down. “This morning, you said I was stronger than you. About…you know.”

Darius’s mouth twitched, and he checked the rearview before he switched to the right lane. “You want me to spell it out? I wouldn’t be able to stay away like you do. Ry’s been on my ass about it—I get it. We shouldn’t complicate an already complicated shitstorm by clinging to each other, but—” He shrugged. “Anyway. You’re doing the right thing, knucklehead. I just… I admit I’m not as strong.”

His answer might be the truth, but it wasn’t satisfying. Not one bit. Gray pinched his lips together to keep from asking the one question that would leave him entirely too exposed. Oh, and it was fucking juvenile too. Asking a forty-three-year-old man if he was attracted to Gray or if it was just the hell they’d been through that brought them together—yeah, no. He cringed just thinking about it.

Quit obsessing, you moron.

He was trying! Gray was trying. But it was like having two voices, one on each shoulder, shouting different things at him. One pointing out the logic, that Darius clung to Gray for all the reasons they’d made clear. Trauma, wanting to be near innocence, comfort, being close to the one person who could relate. Then that other stupid fucking voice that reminded Gray of all the times they’d fucked.

Darius hadn’t held back with compliments and dirty talk. He’d called Gray sexy, beautiful, and…other things.

Screw it. He wasn’t gonna get his answers, and it shouldn’t matter anyway. Like Darius had said, this was the right decision.

End of discussion.That morning, they’d worn T-shirts in the Texas sun.

Around eleven that night, they rolled into a winter wonderland of forests, snowcapped mountains, and ski resorts.

They’d stopped for gas a little while ago, and Gray was struck by how thin the air was up here. He’d never been to Colorado before.

Jayden was excited. A bit annoyed by the fact that it was too dark to see the mountains, but thrilled at the prospect of throwing himself into four feet of snow.

“We’ll get you better clothes tomorrow, buddy,” Gray said, looking back at him. “You need a snowsuit.”

“Okay.” Jayden wouldn’t tear his gaze from the landscape they whizzed by. “There are trees everywhere!”

“There’s a place in town,” Darius said and checked the GPS. “We can go there after breakfast. We need some workout gear too.”

Something fluttered in Gray’s stomach, and he realized it was a pinch of anticipation and eagerness. He’d listened to Darius practically rave about the place they were going. A retreat of sorts for “grunts like him”—him being Darius. The friend, Connor, owned it. And he had private military contractors, service members, veterans, police officers, and security personnel traveling from all parts of the country to visit the retreat where they could work out, catch up with friends, rehabilitate, prepare, and recover. Connor had three employees: a psychologist specializing in combat-related trauma, someone who operated their shooting range, and a personal trainer.

Visitors lived in little cabins that were scattered around the main house, and they brought their own food and drinks.

“Do you think there will be a lot of guests?” Gray asked. It was the one thing he dreaded. For having always been social in the past, he now hated crowds, and energy drained out of him too easily.

“Nah,” Darius replied. “Not this time of year. Maybe two or three, tops.”

Oh. That was a relief. “Have you trained there?”

“Couple times.” Darius nodded. “Had a reunion once too. Ry was in between deployments and flew out here for a weekend.”

Gray hummed. “It’s still interesting to me how a Marine and someone in the private sector work together so often.”