Page 41 of Protecting his Heart

Matteo shook his head. “I have a taxi coming. I’m good.” The man sounded decidedly more sober than he had been acting several minutes ago.

“Did you actually drink anything tonight?” Evan asked.

Matteo smirked. “Does it matter?”

Evan chuckled. “I suppose not. As long as you had a good time.”

“Amazing. Can’t wait to do it again with all these party animals.” He looked around, raising his eyebrows.

Evan followed his gaze, laughing when he saw several bodyguards fast asleep against other members of their group, including Dominic asleep on Randall. Prince Freddie had indeed been singing karaoke when they first walked in, but he hadn’t stayed for long. Whether any of Freddie’s songs were leaked to the media in a day or two was anyone’s guess. It would be hilarious to see the public’s reaction to it.

He wrapped his arm around Owen’s shoulders and led him from the building after a round of goodbyes from those sober and awake enough to notice them leaving. Getting Owen into the car was a task of epic proportions, distracted as he was bythe lights and the stars and the passing cars and the people and…everything. Finally, though, they got into the car, and Evan leaned over to click Owen’s seatbelt in place.

“I love you, you know?” Owen said as he pulled back, and Evan paused, meeting his gaze. His eyes were still glassy and drunk, but there was a solemness to him.

“I know,” he said, but his words caught in his throat. He would’ve loved to hear those words when he was sober, and hopefully, one day he would. Closing Owen’s door, he inhaled a cool breath and rounded the car before climbing in. Owen’s forehead was already leaning against the window, and he would, undoubtedly, be asleep in five seconds.

The snoring that accompanied his driving was a testament to how much Owen had drunk—he only ever snored when he was drunk, but how that happened, Evan had no idea. Maybe it was because he was so relaxed. He didn’t know, but it was cute in a nasally, old man way. Not that he’d tell Owen that. Not yet, anyway.

He parked the car outside the house and woke Owen. He grumbled but listened, walking himself to the door—after Evan corrected his direction once—and entering when Evan opened it.

“Time for bed, sleepyhead.”

Owen snorted indelicately. “Sleepyhead.” But he headed for the bedroom.

Evan followed, helping Owen strip and climb into bed. He wasn’t going to get him to shower, not in his state, but once Owen was in bed, he was out. Evan grabbed a glass of water, some paracetamol and a banana and put it on the bedside table, their past experiences helping him to know what Owen would need when he woke.

Evan left his man sleeping and headed for the bathroom, enjoying a luxuriously warm shower. As the water rained down on him, he considered everything that had happened over thepast few weeks. He had wanted—though had never believed would happen—Owen to fall in love with him and they live happily ever after. And although they seemed to be heading in that direction, all the issues that had cropped up were far from happy.

Evan’s incident with the drug user cutting his arm, seeing his parents and making Owen worry unnecessarily were all things he hadn’t wanted to happen. But as life happened, so did little things they couldn’t control. He hoped he could grab hold of those things they could control and guide their lives in the direction he wanted them to go.

Finished with his melancholic thoughts, he dried off and headed to bed. Despite Owen snoring like a tractor, he wouldn’t sleep somewhere else unless it was impossible to fall asleep because, once he was asleep, nothing would disturb him. Usually. Owen’s retching woke him, which was a surprise, but he darted from the bed to the bathroom and rested his hand on Owen’s back.

“Sorry,” he said between bouts.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you some water.” He filled a small glass and set it on the back of the toilet, within reach. He then wet a cloth with cool water and placed it on Owen’s nape. The groan that accompanied it sounded grateful, and he regularly turned it to keep the cool side close to his skin. When he stopped, Owen sank back against the bath, sweat dripping down his face. Evan rinsed another cloth and wiped him, handing him the glass when he was done. Owen’s hands trembled, and Evan cupped them to help him get it to his mouth.

“Thank you.” He blinked slowly. “Some birthday.”

“You’ll be fine about it once you’re feeling better,” Evan said. “Besides, birthdays shouldn’t count until after we’ve woken on the day. Anything that happens before we sleep is not our birthday, even if it’s after midnight.”

“I like that theory.” Owen sipped again and sighed. “I need more sleep.”

“Do you think you’ll keep down some paracetamol?”

“I can try.”

“Come on, then.” He took the glass, putting it aside, and pulled Owen to his feet carefully. Helping him to sit on the bed, he handed him the tablets, which Owen took with the water.

“Thanks.”

“Get some rest.” Evan tucked Owen back into bed, raking his fingers through his hair until the soft inhales of his sleep reached him. Then he went back to the bathroom and cleaned up before climbing back into bed.

The same thing happened twice more, but they eventually managed five hours’ sleep in one go, waking far later on a Sunday than they usually did. Evan nuzzled his nose into Owen’s neck, ignoring the boozy, sweaty scent coming from his skin. Underneath it, it was still him.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispered, not knowing how bad Owen’s hangover would be.

“Thank you,” he replied in the same voice.

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