High Heat (Hotshots 2)

“So? Ask me to stay anyway.” Ask me. His ribs ached from the force of his wanting. Maybe that’s what this was—he needed Garrick to desire his presence enough to be willing to ask him to stay. That would be proof that Garrick truly wanted him, that he wasn’t going to cast Rain aside when he got to be too much. “Maybe you mean more to me than any amount of nightlife. Maybe I’d stay if you asked.”

“I appreciate that. I do. God, you don’t even know how much.” Garrick scrubbed at his short hair. “But for how long?”

“How long what?”

“How long would you be happy if I asked you to stay? How long until this place started to grate on your nerves? This job? Me? Tell me you wouldn’t resent passing up this opportunity if another one doesn’t come along.”

“I...” The denial was on the tip of his tongue but didn’t come. Fuck it. Why did this have to be so hard? All he wanted was a reason to stay, and Garrick wasn’t giving him that. “I don’t know. I mean, I figure if I start hating this job too much, I can find something else. Don’t worry. I’m not intending to freeload.”

“That was hardly my worry.” Garrick gave a bitter laugh as he reached over and patted Rain’s knee. His hand was clammy and cool, not warm and reassuring like usual. “Jobs aren’t all created equal. Trust me. I know. And any job that excites you enough that you’ve been getting up extra early simply to train for it, you owe it to yourself to chase, others’ wishes and wants be damned.”

I’ve been up early for you. But he couldn’t admit that, not with Garrick being all adult and reasonable here. He didn’t want to look even more like some kid with a hopeless crush while Mr. Older and Wiser was trying to push him out of their cozy little nest. Maybe Garrick had a point that he wouldn’t know whether the hotshot crew was for him unless he tried it, but figuring out whether he wanted to try—that was the whole damn quandary he was in. And all he needed—the one thing he wanted—was for Garrick to ask him to stay. Then he would, and that would settle it as far as he was concerned. Everything else could work out if Garrick could simply admit he wanted Rain to stay.

And if he didn’t, well then, there wasn’t really much point in staying, was there?

Garrick grabbed his hand, but Rain didn’t squeeze back.

Fuck. Rain had known better than to get attached. He really had. But here he was, well and truly attached to this man, who didn’t seem to want him, at least not the way Rain craved him more than he did ice water in the July sun. Garrick simply didn’t understand. Rain would happily commit to a future together, if only Garrick would ask. He’d stay. He’d give up whatever.

“I can’t stay here.” He pushed away from the bed, dropping Garrick’s hand.

“I know. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“I mean right now. This minute. I can’t have this conversation with you with me in a towel. You want me to try for this job. So I guess I will. But damn it, I really thought you wanted me here.”

“Rain. I do. I want you so bad my hands are shaking with it.” He held one up and he wasn’t lying.

“Then—”

“But I’m not going to ask you to stay in Painter’s Ridge. I like you too much for that. I like us too much for that. I’m not going to taint my memories of what we had—”

“Fuck memories. You could have me. You’re so damn afraid that I’m going to leave someday that you’re shoving me out the door right now to ensure that I don’t get a chance to break your heart later on. That’s fucked up, man.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not going to let you mortgage your future for me. It would be disastrous, and I know it. If that means letting you go, then that’s what I have to do.” Garrick’s jaw was firm as ever, but his eyes were glassy.

Hell. If he cried, then Rain was going to cry, and then they were truly going to have a mess. If Garrick wanted to play martyr, let him. He stalked off to the bathroom to find his work clothes, pulling them on with robotic hands, brain still back in the bedroom with Garrick.

“Don’t go.”

“What?” Rain’s heart leaped, rest of him scarcely daring to hope.

“Don’t go. I said I’d feed you dinner. Let’s not ruin what time we have left together. We always knew this was a fling—”

“Did we? Did we really now?” Still buttoning his shirt, Rain whirled on him. Hope, whatever there had been, died a swift, merciless death. “So this was always only casual for you? Even the last few... You know what? Never mind. Clearly I’m the idiot here. I thought... And it doesn’t really matter what the fuck I thought. You’re the one who’s made up his mind.”