“I’m glad we agree,” Renato said when the first preview began. It was dark, ominous sounds, meaning some action flick he’d never watch. “You don’t get to demand anything from me.”
Frey let out a tense, furious laugh. “When have I ever?”
Renato opened his mouth, then closed it. He was right. Frey hadn’t asked him for anything except when he was all but begging Renato to take care of his son. But that was a given.
Frey did nothing but torment him. But Renato was feeling a strange, uncontrolled kind of rage in his belly, and he couldn’t seem to hold it back. “You also don’t get to judge me. When you parade yourself around the hospital and sleep with anyone who looks at you twice?—”
“Any man,” Frey hissed. “I’m gay. And fuck you. You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know the look doctors give you. And the nurses. I know I’m not the first,” Renato said, louder than he’d intended, but no one was around.
Frey twisted in his seat, his eyes blazing with fury. “Is that what they say about me? That they’ve run a fucking train on me?”
Renato swallowed heavily at the sound of pain in Frey’s voice because no. No one had ever said that, and he hadn’t meant to imply…except, no. He had. He’d meant to imply everything. He’d meant to hurt Frey’s feelings.
What had he become? He’d been grouchy and terse his entire life, but he’d never been cruel.
“Frey—”
He stood, eyes on the screen. “No, I get it. I’m the hospital whore. Cool. Thanks for the wake-up call and explaining why you did what you did.”
He started to move, and Renato acted on instinct. His hand darted out, and he grabbed Frey’s wrist, holding him fast. Their eyes locked in the dim light, and then Frey’s knees buckled, and he hit the seat.
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did,” Frey whispered.
Renato closed his eyes. “It’s not why I…why we…” He licked his lips. “I don’t know why I kissed you the first time. You’d ruined my entire day. You’ve been making life at work harder than it has to be. And I wanted to…”
“To?”
“Hit you, maybe? It was hit you or kiss you, and kissing you just seemed like the better option.” His excuse sounded pathetic. “I shouldn’t have crossed that line. You don’t like me.”
Frey scoffed loudly and turned to face him. “No, I don’t like you, but was I not enthusiastic enough to prove that I wanted it as much as you did?”
Renato felt his cheeks heat, and he licked his lips slowly. “Perhaps.”
Frey’s eyes glittered in the dark. He twisted his hand so he was the one holding Renato, and then he carefully pulled, slow like he was giving Renato time to resist. Then, he laid his hand on his bulge. It throbbed under Renato’s soft touch. “Does it seem like I still don’t want it?”
Renato’s breath trembled as it escaped his chest, and then he leaned in, took Frey’s chin between his fingers, and delivered the kiss the man seemed to be begging for.
Chapter Eleven
Although nothing had been his fault in any way at all, Frey still felt like he was choking on guilt when Oz showed up and let Rex’s hand go. Frey had assumed Oz would take a bunch of time off after the incident, but he showed up on time with a smile on his face.
Except, Frey knew him well enough to see that it was strained, and he knew there was no way to fix it. He fidgeted, then invited Oz in for coffee, but Oz just shook his head and started for the door.
In a half panic, Frey darted after him and tapped his shoulder. Oz turned with a resigned look, and Frey wanted to cry. ‘Please don’t hate me.’
Oz’s eyes widened. ‘Hate you?’ He spelled it out to be clear Frey understood: H A T E, then wriggled his first finger in a question mark.
Frey nodded.
Oz blinked. ‘Why would I hate you? What did you do?’
‘The hospital,’ Frey answered. ‘The cops…’
Oz scoffed loudly and shook his head. After a beat, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his slim CI case and pulled them out. He almost never used them with Frey, and he never used them with Rex because the only way for Rex to acquire his language was to be immersed in it all the time. So Frey knew this had to be serious.