“Yeah.” Cash let out a happy sigh and then sobered. “Brielle used to be nuts about whales and conservation. We pinky promised to go to Alaska one year and see the whales during their migration. The idea that they’re here too means maybe she saw them.” He let out another breath. “Maybe she can remember who she is because of those things she used to love so much.”
“Mm. Yeah—good thinking,” Glen praised, then he frowned.
“Thanks. What’s wrong?” The room had dark blue carpet and white sheets and comforters, the kind with the superfine thread count.
“A king-size bed? Did you ask for this, or is it Damien’s idea of a joke?”
Cash’s heart fell a little. “No, I didn’t ask,” he said. It had been true—he didn’t want to put Damien in the position of either refusing to help or playing cupid. “But, you know, big mattress. You can sleep on one side and pretend I’m dead on the other.”
“I don’t want you dead,” Glen said so immediately, with such venom, Cash knew it was true and took heart. “I just…. God, this could make things complicated.”
“Things are already complicated,” Cash told him. “Maybe it could make us close.”
Glen let out a hurt sound, and for the first time in his life, Cash understood the meaning of “backing off.”
“Look, undress and I’ll get some towels and some lotion. Don’t worry—no sex on the table here. You’re in pain, and we need to loosen you up before you do anything tricky with your back. I promise, your virtue is safe with me.”
“Virtue? Oh my God!” Glen started to laugh, deep and loud, and Cash shook his head in disgust and stalked to the bathroom for towels. Smartass.
He got back to the room in time for Glen to have dropped his shirt, and he was in the middle of kicking off his shoes. Cash dodged behind him to lay some towels on the bed and put a hand on his chest when he attempted to lie down without taking off his jeans.
“Underwear,” Cash said, unequivocally.
“We’re not—”
“I know we’re not. But jeans aren’t comfortable, and you’ll spend all your time shifting on the bed trying to get that big seam out of your balls, and that won’t help. Don’t fight me on this.”
“Don’t fight you on this?” Glen asked dryly.
“That’s what I said. I’m not going to take advantage of you, Glen!”
“I never said you were!” Glen tried to laugh.
“And don’t act like it could never happen, because we both know that’s what happened the first time,” Cash said, the shame deep in his chest.
“I knew what I was getting into,” Glen muttered. “It takes two objects to collide, Cash. I’m not stupid.”
Cash swallowed, suddenly too vulnerable, and the urge to run out of the room and break his six-month celibacy streak was strong. But even as the urge hit, he knew what would happen. He’d come to, tainted by some other guy, and realize that this man—this man—would be lost to him forever.
“No,” Cash said, letting his voice break. “I am. Or I was then. I’m trying not to be now. Just… just lie down on your stomach or side if that’s comfortable. I promise I’m good at this. It’s not bullshit. I really want you not to hurt anymore.”
Glen swallowed and looked away. Without another word he shucked his jeans and placed himself carefully on the bed, his cheek against the pillow, the lovely clean lines of his back, his hips, his ass and thighs, there for Cash to see.
Cash rubbed some hotel lotion between his hands to get it warm and tried hard not to wince at the surgery scars.
“Not pretty,” Glen muttered.
“Says you.” Cash wasn’t trained, but he knew he wasn’t bad either. He smoothed the lotion in and began to work, his mind heavily on his task.
Glen hurt—inside and out—but right here, right now, Cash could concentrate on the out. He worked at the knots in Glen’s neck, in his shoulder and back, until they gave. He was going to nudge Glen to turn over, so he could work on the pectorals and biceps, but by then Glen had fallen asleep.
Any ordinary time, Cash would’ve been mad or hurt; here he was doing his best to touch this guy gallantly, to give him comfort, and his reward was a snoring pilot?
Except that wasn’t what the massage had been about. Cash had wanted to give comfort, to relieve pain—and Glen’s quiet breathing told him that he had.
The room was chilly, so he toweled off the extra lotion and pulled the covers over Glen’s shoulders, and as he was wondering about food, he heard a quiet knock on the door.
He answered, and Preston stood there, glaring.
“What?” Oh God. Cash liked Preston. “He’s sleeping. I worked the knots out of his shoulder, so I hope he can get some rest tonight.”
Preston nodded. “I’m going to go fetch food for everybody. Come with me.”
Oh. Well. They were going to do this now. “Sure. Let me get my wallet and my jacket.” Still chilly outside, especially with the breeze off the Sea of Cortez.
“I’ll wait.”
Preston stayed there in the doorway, Preacher at his side, while Cash found what he needed in the room. Braving that terrible blue-eyed, lantern-jawed scowl, he bent down by Glen’s ear.
“I’m going to get some food, okay?”
“Mmnot hungry,” Glen mumbled.
“I’ll get you tacos, and you’ll love it,” Cash told him. “Sleep until I get back.”
“Fine.”
“I promise I’m coming back.”
“Believe that when you get here.” And with that, Glen turned his head away from the edge of the bed, and Cash sighed.
“Sure.”
He got up and pocketed one of the hotel keys, leaving the other on the TV stand, before exiting the room with a disapproving Preston.
“You promised you’d come back,” Preston said, voice uncompromising. Together they clattered down the steps to the concrete apron that extended over the beach. Cash paused for a moment to look at the ocean in the twilight and let some of the peace of wind and wave wash through him. This was hard, he thought randomly. This was hard, and he was doing it. And Preston had a right to be pissed. Cash had hurt someone he cared about. But Cash had done all sorts of things nobody thought he could. Being in the band—that was a big deal to him, and he rocked it. Being a faithful friend to Brielle? He’d tracked her down not once but twice, and he wasn’t giving up.
Confronting his mother about letting him run wild in the discos and the drug dens and the excesses of people who were too young with too much money had sucked. Walking away when he realized she could never give him the support he’d needed so badly once, but had learned to live without…
That had been hard.
And coming back to Glen Echo, someone he had hurt before but still cared about?
This was by far the hardest thing he’d ever done—but it was also the most he’d ever wronged someone. It was right that it was hard. Glen wouldn’t believe Cash meant it if everyone made it easy.
If Cash could have the conversation he’d just finished with Glen, surely he could talk to Glen’s brutally honest brother. He might have wounds to lick when he was done, but he wasn’t a scared kid anymore.