Page 2 of Protecting his Heart

He watched his best friend aim straight for the man of his dreams, slide his arms around his waist from behind and press a kiss to his temple. Randall closed his eyes and smiled. Owen sighed and turned his gaze back to the window, downing his drink despite the burning in his throat. He grimaced as it settled uneasily in his stomach. Evan nudged his shoulder again, and Owen found a fake smile to send his way.

He met Evan’s gaze and couldn’t look away. The green eyes shimmered whenever a firework exploded in front of them, and Evan swiped his tongue across his lips, leaving a glistening trail behind. Owen swallowed. Hard. He wanted to close the distance between them. To remind himself what it felt like to have Evan’s mouth against his. To claim what was his.

The thought snapped him out of his trance, and he blinked and faced the window in time to see a starburst of colour explode. It was what his brain felt like, too.

He cleared his throat. Evan wasn’t his. “What plans do you have for tomorrow?”

Evan sighed. “No plans at all.”

Owen couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Boxing practice?”

“You’re on.”

They dropped into silence again as the fireworks finished, and when Owen couldn’t take it anymore, he clapped Evan on the shoulder. “I’m heading out. See you later.”

“Okay.”

The uncertainty in Evan’s voice was apparent, but Owen couldn’t stop to explain. He needed to get out of there before he did something stupid. Again. He made his goodbyes and headed home—the same place that Evan lived at the moment. Something Owen occasionally wished they could change. Seeing Evan every day was the best and worst thing in his life. Reminding him what he could’ve had if only he’d not been so scared of losing him. But then he’d lost him, anyway. It served him right.

Letting himself into the house he’d recently finished renovating, he closed the door and sighed, staring around him and seeing evidence of Evan. It was both a curse and a blessing to see Evan’s jumper slung over the back of a chair, a book he was currently reading resting on the coffee table and his shoes by the front door. The idea that they could seamlessly fit into each other’s life was like soaking in a bath and letting the warm water do its thing. Then harsh reality intruded, and the water turned ice cold.

He inhaled and blew it out, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water to take to his room. Closing his door gave him another small barrier between him and Evan, but it was never enough. He stripped down and slid under the covers, still in his boxers, and laid on his back, staring at the dark ceiling, the occasional firework and car lights travelling across the space. He purposefully kept his curtains a light colour so the sun would help to wake him in the morning. It was a moot point during the winter when the sun wasn’t up as early as Owen usually was, but it worked, for the most part.

The front door opened, and Owen froze. His ears strained for every sound he could grasp of Evan, but the man was almost as stealthy as Owen could be; it must have been his years of entering patient’s room quietly as a nurse. The pipes creaked, and the distant sound of water connected his thoughts. He closed his eyes, trying not to imagine Evan in the shower, suds sliding all over his body. His cock responded, but as always, he ignored it, unwilling to stroke himself off when Evan was mere feet away. Instead, he pulled the pillow over his head and squeezed his eyes tighter, wishing for sleep.

It must’ve worked because his alarm woke him the next morning. Even when he wasn’t working, he made sure to get up at a reasonable time. He climbed from the bed and immediately dropped into press-ups, needing to get the blood flowing through his body before he had any kind of food or drink. It was a routine he’d perfected through the years and one he rarely changed.

When his muscles burnt from use and his head cleared, he jumped into the shower and cleaned off before dressing in joggers and a T-shirt, ready for his sparring session with Evan. He strode for the kitchen, his stomach fluttering when he found Evan already there, coffee in hand.

“Morning,” he said, grabbing a mug from the cupboard and pouring himself some delicious nectar.

“Morning.” Evan’s voice sounded like gravel, and it lit Owen’s blood, a reminder of how he’d sounded that night. He ignored it. “What time do you want to go?”

“Whenever you’re ready.” Neither had to work that day, which was a miracle. With Owen’s shifts as Prince Frederick’s bodyguard and Evan’s shifts as an A&E nurse, it was often difficult to match their schedules.

“Okay. Give me five.”

Evan left the kitchen, leaving Owen to brace his hands on the counter, his head lowered to stop himself from following. It was more difficult to control his impulses each time. He shook his head and focused on finishing his coffee before collecting his bag from his room. The royal family gave their bodyguards access to the training rooms at Windsor Castle whenever they wanted to, and they’d extended that invitation to Evan as well. It made things a lot easier for them all.

“Ready?” he said when Evan returned and just as the doorbell rang.

Owen opened the front door and stopped with a frown when no one was there. His gaze caught on the parcel on the top step. He grabbed it and took it to the dining table, studying the label.

“Who’s it for?”

“Me,” Owen said. “I can’t remember ordering anything.”

He grabbed a knife and sliced open the tape holding the box closed after a second of concern that it was something more than an item he’d forgotten he’d ordered. Shaking his head, he opened it. Inside was a box decorated with Christmas paper. He closed the lid again, checking the label. “No return address,” he mumbled.

Pulling out the box, he checked the tag, and again, it said his name.

“Did your mum order something and forget to tell you?” Evan asked from beside him.

“No idea.” He unwrapped the box, lifted the lid and smiled at the contents. He ran his hand over the soft, dark blue fabric, pulling it free. “It’s a scarf.”

Evan reached into the box and handed him a piece of paper. “You have a note.”

Owen ignored whatever he thought he’d heard in Evan’s tone and read what it said.

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