Page 2 of New Year

Nat frowned, mostly at himself, because that had been a fucking rude thing to say. Angelo didn’t seem upset, though. “Okay, well, be careful. Please?”

“Aw, I didn’t realize you still cared.” Angelo’s teasing tone only made Nat sadder.

“It wasn’t about me not caring anymore, babe.” He furrowed his brow, wishing he could tell Angelo the truth. Desperate to confide in someone. But doing that put Angelo back in Austin’s crosshairs. No. “You wanted more than I had to give when we were together. Wrong time for us, that’s all.”

“To borrow an old cliché, it’s water under the bridge, right? We’ve both moved on, and we’re friends.”

“Yeah, we are.” His phone began playing music he’d come to dread, and Nat flinched. He’d dawdled too long. “Listen, I gotta go. Take care, Angelo.”

“Take care.”

Walking away from Angelo was one of the hardest things he’d done in a long time. Partly, because he knew what kind of amazing, generous, sensual man he was walking away from; partly, because he knew what kind of arrogant, selfish, brutal man he was walking back to.

The first time Nat met Angelo at Tim’s, the older man had slipped right under Nat’s skin with a few flirty words, and in only a couple of brief hours, was sliding into Nat’s body. They’d had incredible sex at Angelo’s most recent renovation site. Angelo liked to live at those sites to save money, and the illicitness of it had added to the thrill for Nat. It had been the best sex he’d had in years, maybe his entire adult life, if Nat was honest with himself. Both passionate and tender, and full of chemistry.

Naturally, Nat had gotten attached quickly. Even Angelo, who had a reputation for no repeats, continued seeing him for over a month, and they’d even had a brief, post-coital discussion of exclusivity. They’d both been pretty drunk and high on endorphins, but it had felt nice. Nat finally felt special again.

Nat hadn’t felt special in so long that his body had forgotten the sensations of being held by loving arms. He craved the familiarity of Angelo’s strong, protective arms, but he didn’t dare reach for the man. Not with Austin waiting in the car for his fucking Slim Jims.

Nat silenced his phone, then paid for his snacks and fled the store. Austin’s black, two-door Mustang was parked at the farthest pump, and he was already back inside, engine going for the heat in today’s February chill, the rumbling noise like a growl of disapproval at Nat for taking so long. He hated that car, with its deeply tinted windows and wide backseat. Austin loved that car for the same reasons.

Nat tugged on the passenger door handle. Locked. Not really a shock, but he was cold, sore, heartsick, and just wanted to get on the road to their destination so he could try and relax for a while. This entire week had been beyond stressful. It wasn’t every day you nearly died because a boiler blew up, and he’d never been admitted to the hospital, only spent the night in the ER.

A brief respite.

He knocked on the window, barely able to make out the faint shape of Austin in the driver’s seat, hands moving in that orchestra conductor way he had during phone calls. Nat’s own beater car didn’t have a Bluetooth hookup, and he was a little jealous of the new cars he’d been in lately. But Nat had learned to make do with the essentials. Bells and whistles were for other people, not him.

Irritation growing, Nat knocked a second time, maybe a little too hard. The lock finally popped. He reached for the handle. In the same second as he pulled, the car locked again.

Motherfucker, I don’t need this childish shit today.

It unlocked. Nat counted to ten in his head, then pulled. The car door opened and he slid inside with his bag of goodies. The heat was blasting at an uncomfortable temperature, but Austin had also shucked his warm coat and only wore a sleeveless muscle tee. He loved those shirts, because he loved the way they showed off his upper arms. One of his prized possessions was his set of Rogue dumbbells.

“Took your sweet time,” Austin drawled, angling to give Nat his full attention. The display screen was set back to Radio, so he’d ended his call.

“Sorry, there was a line.”

“You got my cookies?”

“Yes, the Slim Jims, cookies and some chips. It’s all in there.”

“Gimme.” Austin snatched the bag. For a twenty-eight-year-old man, he often acted like someone half his age. He was also handsome enough to seduce the devil, with curly black hair, high cheekbones, and the sort of wicked smile that would charm a nun out of her habit.

Austin’s shoulders stiffened and his mouth went flat, sending nervous bees buzzing into Nat’s gut. Austin pulled out two packs of sandwich cookies. “What the fuck are these?”

“Your cookies.”

“No, I told you to get the duplex cookies. One side is vanilla and one side is chocolate.”

Nat stared at the packs he’d chosen: one vanilla and one chocolate. “It’s all they had in stock today. I didn’t see the duplex cookies.”

Austin threw both packs directly at Nat’s face. Nat deflected one with his cast but the other smacked into his bruised cheek, and he yelped. It wasn’t the most painful hit ever, but his poor, abused body needed a goddamn rest.

As if. You know where you’re going today.

Didn’t matter that Nat’s face—as Angelo had so eloquently told him a few minutes ago—looked like a Neapolitan pizza. They’d made the date two weeks ago, and Austin had been furious when Nat came home from the hospital, ten hours after his shift had ended, battered and wearing a cast.

His pain hadn’t mattered to Austin. He’d only cared that they might make less money now that Nat looked less than perfect.

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