Page 58 of Finding Michael

Chapter Thirteen

Michael closed the garage door and flicked on the additional security lights. His head swam. He’d been a fool to get involved with Tristan. All the warning bells had gone off in his head. Tristan still had someone in New York. Someone who wasn’t him.

He wandered through the house and stopped in the living room. He tossed his bag onto the sofa. His legs ached from the ride and his sinuses were raw from the night air. He collapsed on the couch and sighed.

Self-loathing took over. He should’ve fought more for Tristan. At the very least, he should’ve stood up for himself. No, he’d been weak and left. He’d kept his thoughts to himself.Get away before shit happens.Now, he was neck-deep in shit. Retreating hadn’t helped. He felt worse…like a piece of him was missing. It sucked. He liked Tristan—maybe even loved him. How was that possible? The one guy he’d fallen for, the one he could see a future with, had played him.

Of course.

He massaged his forehead and clunked his knuckles on his bike helmet.Jesus. I still have the thing on?His hair was probably glued to his head. Oh well. He wasn’t out to impress anyone tonight. He removed the helmet and kicked off his shoes. When he wriggled his toes, the bones creaked. He sighed again. At thirty-five, he was falling apart.

He closed his eyes. Life was strange. One minute he’d planned his life around dinners by himself and working until he forgot his loneliness. Then next, Tristan had swooped in and gotten him thinking about being part of a twosome. Then reality had ripped everything to shreds, leaving him to pick up the pieces. Not that he had much choice—he had to move on with his life.

He opened his eyes and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. The desire to leave the sofa crossed his mind, but he didn’t move. Why bother? Moping seemed like such a better alternative.

White light flooded the living room, then disappeared. Michael sat up. He hadn’t ordered pizza or takeout. Knowing his luck, a hot delivery guy had the wrong address. He rifled his fingers through his hair and stood. A shadow moved across the picture window. Instead of giving the wayward delivery man a chance to speak, Michael intercepted him from behind the door.

“You want the next house. Two-thirteen. This is two-eighteen,” Michael called. “Two doors down and across the street.”

“Michael.”

He froze.Tristan?What? He had to be cool in case his mind was playing tricks on him. “I didn’t order anything.” The voice sure sounded like Tristan, but he didn’t trust himself. Besides, Tristan was with Cody.

“I know. I want to talk to you,” Tristan said. “Please?”

No denying that was Tristan. He grasped the door handle, but didn’t open up. “Why? You said enough at the house.” Come to think of it, Tristan’s body language had been all wrong, but it was too late to take the statement back. Tristan hadn’t said much and had seemed confused back at the Victorian. Still, he hadn’t argued when Cody had said they were together.

“Please?”

Michael opened the door, but stared at Tristan through the mesh of the screen door. “We can talk, but no sex.” He twisted the lock on the storm door. “I’m not in the mood.” Wrong again. He’d spread out for Tristan. He craved the man’s body and soul, but neither was up for grabs.

Tristan didn’t smile or push his way in. His shoulders slumped and his hair was a mess. The circles under his eyes were deeper.

Michael stepped out of the way as Tristan inched into the house. “I just left you at the Victorian. I’m the one who should be winded. Have you been drinking?” He offered his arm. “Come on. I’ll make coffee and sober you up.” He’d inferred a lot from Tristan by just being at his home. There wasn’t an invitation for sex and Tristan hadn’t said a word about drinking.

“Michael.” Tristan touched Michael’s forearm. “I’m not drunk. I haven’t had a drink in days. As for sex, I’d love to be with you, but I can’t.”

“Because you’re with Cody.” He closed the door. “I understand.”

Tristan shook his head. “Because it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“I don’t understand, but then a lot of what’s happened in the last couple hours makes no sense.” He gestured to the sofa. “How about we sit and chat?”

“Your hair is standing on end.” Tristan brushed his fingers across Michael’s cheek. “It’s cute.”

“Yours isn’t much better.” He sat opposite Tristan. “Want coffee or some water?”

“I’m fine.” Tristan scrubbed both hands over his face. “When I left New York, I’d effectively run away from my problems. I had a kind-of boyfriend who wanted fame, but not really me. Then there’s my aunt, the social climber. She wants more of everything and will stop at nothing to get it. Add in my lack of writing, my desire to drink too much and my tendency to pop pills to function… I used the uppers to get through the day and downers to sleep. It’s only by sheer willpower and a doctor’s help that I got off them before I came here.” He sighed. “I kicked some of my addictions, but I ran away from the rest of my problems. I didn’t force myself to write or do anything. I just got the hell out of Dodge.”

“Sounds like.” Michael wasn’t sure what else to say. His heart broke for Tristan, but then again, he was a little envious and disgusted, too. How could someone with so much going for them not realize what they had? Or better yet, how could Tristan want to throw it all away?

“I got a new start when I came to Sullavan. My mother seemed to know when I was a kid that my being here was a sort of reset button. Maybe my uncle knew that, too. I haven’t taken any pills, drunk except the beer I had with you and I’m writing. The story is nearly done. I’ll have the first draft to my publisher this weekend.”

“Good job.” Michael clapped Tristan’s knee. “Proud of you.” He met Tristan’s gaze and eased his hand away. “But?”

“I’m scared,” Tristan said. His voice cracked. “Part of me wonders if this trip to Sullavan wasn’t what it seems. You know, like I’m only seeing the bright side so I can hide from the negatives back home.”

“Could be.” He’d done his fair share of hiding at the library to avoid his issues. “They won’t go away, though.”

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