Page 70 of Mean Machine

Nathaniel leaned forward. “If there’s anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah.” Brooklyn took a deep breath. “What about Dion?”

Nathaniel twitched strongly enough it seemed he was going to baulk and get up again to escape the situation. But he remained sitting. “You met him?”

“Very briefly.”

Now Nathaniel looked a little worried. “He’s a friend, Brooklyn.”

Not what I heard.“Elaborate?”

That quick grimace wasn’t a lawyer expression—at least Brooklyn hoped that Nathaniel had more of a poker face when he needed to break bad news to a client. “We met way back at school and have been close friends, then lovers and business partners for many years. It was probably a mistake to marry, all things considered, given how wholly incompatible we are in some respects, but we are still shared owners of the law firm. It became apparent that dissolving the business would have had much more far-reaching consequences than getting a divorce, with regards to clients and our standing in our profession.” Nathaniel made a circular gesture with his right hand as if looking for an expression. “We’re no longer sleeping together, if that’s what you mean. I understand it might appear as if you had a reason to be jealous. I assure you, you don’t.”

Brooklyn nodded, mostly to himself, then cracked a smile. “Well, nobody can accuse you of having a type.”

Nathaniel snorted laughter. “Isn’t that the truth. The only common traits I can see between Dion and you is you’re both confident and determined. And I’ll admit it’s about confidence, not so much appearance for me.”

“I struggle to see how you would end up with him.”

“Considering hindsight is twenty-twenty, I’d agree, but I once admired him for his style, intelligence, and social capital. When you’re not yet quite sure about your own identity, meeting somebody who’s so driven to achieve while retaining complete flexibility about the means to get there was an… experience. And, if you don’t mind, that’s the extent of what I want to say about it because all of this is water under the bridge, and this isn’t about Dion and me, but about you and me.” Nathaniel met his gaze openly, with an underlying edge that indicated this was the line he’d drawn in the sand and Brooklyn better respect it. Brooklyn had learnt to read other men, first as a cop and later as a boxer, and could usually tell where those lines were and how far a man was willing to go to defend them. Nathaniel wasn’t evasive, but he’d stand his ground.

Of course, that was fair enough. Nathaniel had similarly never dug around for his past with Shelley.

Brooklyn blew out a breath. He’d trust Nathaniel with this, and maybe Nathaniel would open up more about it, but right now, they both had to work to get anywhere in their own relationship in the present. “All right.” He didn’t know anything else to say. It was all right, because his own emotions were beginning to settle down. It wasn’t like the world had changed—he was the piece that no longer quite fit.

Brooklyn stood and walked around the table. Nathaniel straightened somewhat and looked up when Brooklyn stopped right in front of him. He shifted as if about to stand, but Brooklyn placed a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, then slid it up towards his neck, the fine cloth whispering against his fingers. Nathaniel’s hair was long enough to brush the stiff collar of his shirt, and Brooklyn let his fingers slide higher, to his nape. Nathaniel drew a deep breath and seemed to soften and shrink under Brooklyn’s touch, but he didn’t pull away.

Brooklyn widened his touch to a grip that also reached Nathaniel’s neck. He felt the muscle strands there, the hollow right under the skull, the soft neck hair. If they were now as familiar as they had been, he’d simply broaden his stance, keep Nathaniel’s head in that position with one hand, and open his trousers with the other. But they were no longer really that familiar. Who had control over whom and why—all that had changed, and almost nothing was clear yet. Nathaniel let his head fall forward, resting his forehead against Brooklyn’s thigh. He breathed out, and Brooklyn assumed he probably closed his eyes as well.

Brooklyn ran his free hand over Nathaniel’s shoulders. “Long day?”

“Long week, month, year, life.” Nathaniel shook his head without breaking the contact. “I’m exhausted.”

Brooklyn looked down at that bent neck. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Nathaniel lifted his head. “You coming?”

Brooklyn grinned. “Hopefully more than once. Yeah.”

BROOKLYN WASvaguely aware that Nathaniel had got up again. There had been voices, but nothing about this alarmed Brooklyn enough to force himself awake.

Maybe that was one indication that his body at least was starting to get over the time in ICU’s gym—he managed to wake up and then fall asleep again because some corner of his mind realised it was Sunday and he had every right to stay in bed and nowhere specific to be. In any case, Nathaniel had returned to bed, cuddled up to him, with Brooklyn just alert enough to notice, and they’d fallen asleep again.

“Daddy?”

Brooklyn was awake before Nathaniel was—the man hadn’t been joking when he’d said he was exhausted—and saw Hazel standing near Nathaniel’s side of the bed, wearing light blue pyjamas with what could have been either yellow flowers or umbrellas, her blonde hair untidy and brown eyes peering curiously at him. They looked at each other for a while as Brooklyn’s sleep-addled brain processed that “Daddy” was Nathaniel, but the word still hit him low in the gut.

“Let’s see if I can wake him up?”

Hazel nodded eagerly.

He leaned over Nathaniel. “Your daughter requires attention.” He wasn’t quite sure how much touch was appropriate with a preschooler in the room, but this seemed quite healthy and normal, and frankly Nathaniel had never treated him—or likely any other guy—as a dirty secret that he needed to stash away.

Nathaniel blinked and yawned and found the sweetest sleepy smile for Hazel. “Hey. Why are you awake?” He reached out for her, and Brooklyn had to shift his bulk so Nathaniel had more space and Hazel could join them on Nathaniel’s side. Nathaniel kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair. “Or just lonely?”

She burrowed against him, looking so relaxed now that Brooklyn fully expected her to fall asleep. “I love you, Daddy.”

“And I love you, darling.” Nathaniel glanced at Brooklyn as if to check what he thought.

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