“Nope. I was on the fence about the nerve graft, but it should help with the phantom limb pain, so I’m glad I had it. Anyway, enough about me—what have you been doing with yourself since I last saw you?”
“I already told you. Going to meetings and job hunting.”
“Did you have any luck? With the job hunting, I mean.”
“No.”
Jamie didn’t elaborate, and he turned his back on Marc to open the oven and slide his bubbling pan inside. Marc took the hint and searched for a change of subject, but other than the crazy-good smell already coming from the stove, came up blank. “How’s your flat? Is it warm enough?”Smooth, man. Smooth.
But Jamie didn’t seem to mind. He carefully shut the AGA door and wiped his hands on a tea towel. “It’s not cold, but it’s bare. Just the furniture and me. I’ve thought about keeping the telly on all the time, but that crap drives me mad.”
“You don’t have any books?”
“A couple, but they’re self-help bullshit that my sponsor gave me before I left Cali. I only read them when I’m desperate.”
Marc couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room any longer. “Remember you can take as many as you like from upstairs. I’m sure you’d find plenty if you went through them.”
“Is that your way of asking me if I’m on my arse enough to accept your charity?”
There was no bitterness lacing Jamie’s words, but they stung all the same. “It’s not charity. You’d be doing me a favour. And if you don’t want to do it, I’ll pay someone else. How is that charity?”
“You didn’t make it up because you felt sorry for me?”
“I don’t feel sorry for you. You’re young, clever, and gorgeous, and you’ve got your whole life to look forward to. Why the fuck would I feel sorry for you?” It wasn’t much of a lie. Marc’s heart ached for all that Jamie had been through, but he’d been around the block enough to know that such things shaped a man like Jamie.He’s so much stronger than he realises.“I didn’t make it up, mate. Think what you want about yourself, but I haven’t got time for games.”
The urge to walk away festered in Marc’s gut, but Jamie stayed him with a featherlight brush of his fingers over Marc’s forearm.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m just rubbish at interacting with anyone who isn’t trying to fuck me. It’s like I’m conditioned to fight everyone in case they screw me over.”
Marc stared at where Jamie’s fingers had come to rest on his skin, marvelling at how sweetly they burned. “That’s pretty admirable, really—that you still want to fight.”
“Fight other people, not fight for myself. There’s nothing admirable about that.”
“Suit yourself. But whatever you think, I didn’t make that job up for you. It’s yours if you want it, someone else’s if you don’t.”
“I never said I didn’t want it.” Jamie’s hand remained on Marc’s arm.
Marc licked his lips and sucked in a shaky breath. “If you want it, take it.”
“That theory hasn’t worked out so well for me in the past.”
“You don’t live in the past.”
Jamie was silent, apparently transfixed by where they were joined as much as Marc was. Recklessness struck Marc. He took Jamie’s other hand and tugged gently until Jamie was in front of him, so close their knees touched, and Marc felt him everywhere, even in his missing leg. “You’ve got to give yourself a chance.”
The stern words he’d intended came out as barely a whisper, and Jamie didn’t blink when a tiny tear escaped his chaotic eyes and slid down his haunted face.
Marc broke Jamie’s hold on his wrist and wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. “Life was forced on you last year by someone who cared when you didn’t. Iknowyou care now, and so do I—about both of us. So let’s help each other, eh? At least until you find something else?”
“I’m not going to find anything else. There’s nothing here for me.”
“You’re going to leave?” Marc’s heart struck up a cold, painful tattoo, and Jamie’s bleak expression as he shook his head did little to ease the anxiety clawing at Marc’s gut. But he couldn’t ask Jamie to stay. Jamie deserved a life, and he wasn’t going to find it holed up in Marc’s dark, gloomy house—
Jamie’s lips brushed Marc’s, stealing Marc’s breath, and then his hips dug into Marc, bony and sharp, his torso finding a perfect cradle in Marc’s arms. Startled, Marc gasped, but kissing Jamie was as easy as breathing, even though he knew it wouldn’t chase Jamie’s demons away.
Their lips met again and again. Marc’s body responded to Jamie’s every touch and stuttered breath, but he fought the urge to pull Jamie closer, to deepen their kiss to something more. Jamie was fragile, like a beautiful moth without a flame, and Marc ghosted his hands over him like he was made of threadbare silk, all the while caging him in his arms as tightly as he dared.
Jamie broke the kiss. “Oh God. I didn’t mean to do that.”