Page 1 of Shades of Henry
Rude Awakenings
HENRY KNEWwhat a cheap hotel bed felt like. With nine years in the military, he and Mal had gone on leave in a thousand different places. And the creak of the springs, the smell of sex, the chafing of cheap sheets?
It was all sickeningly familiar.
Except his face hurt, and his shoulder too, where someone had landed a blow, and his knuckles had that three-day ache from being clenched too hard.
Who’d he beaten up again?
His eyes shot open.
No. He hadn’t landed any blows in that fight. And Malachi had effectively betrayed him and ripped his heart out. And his family had taken Mal’s side.
Then why did he smell like sex?
He rolled over in the queen-sized bed and felt the warm spot—and the wet spot—and grimaced. Last night was so hazy. God. The bus had pulled in at, what? Ten thirty the night before? It had been raining, and he’d gotten a hotel nearby, and there’d been a guy… not bad-looking. Brown eyes, brown hair, a slick smile that showed all his teeth and a couple of dimples to boot.
He’d been a little tipsy. At first Henry had thought it was alcohol, but after the guy had come up to the hotel room, he’d popped open a little pharmacy bottle and offered Henry one. And it hadn’t been vodka in there.
Usually drugs would have repelled the fuck out of Henry, but his face still hurt, and his heart still hurt, and he was alone in Sacramento—a place as strange to him as he was to it—and the only people he had to contact in the morning might just kick the door in his face.
He hadn’t taken one, but he hadn’t kicked Martin out of the room, either.
The shower turned off, and Henry swung his legs over the end of the creaky bed and rested his head in his hands. A burst of steam and hotel-scented shampoo blew Martin back into the room, and he grinned, the look so suggestive, so filthy, Henry felt his gorge rise.
“Ready for another round, soldier?”
“No, thank you,” Henry muttered. “I need to shower and get out of here.”
“That’s a shame.” Martin gave a patently fake pout. “You sure you don’t want to stay around for… coffee?”
“Very.” Henry stood up, keeping the sheet around his waist.
“Well, then, could you spare some money for a cab?” It was said with a raised eyebrow, and Henry’s stomach churned. It wasn’t even a one-night stand. Well, thank God for condomsandPrEP.
“Yeah, sure.” Well, the guy could have taken his wallet and run while Henry was still sleeping; that was something. “Throw me my pants. My wallet’s in—” Martin went straight for the wallet in the pocket. “—the side.”
He wondered if he was going to have to chase his one-night trick naked down the Astroturf hallway of this shitty motel, but Martin froze as he was opening Henry’s wallet.
“Henry?”
“That’s me.”
“Henry Matthew Worrall?”
Henry blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Martin Whoever-You-Are?”
Martin blinked and shoved the wallet back into Henry’s pants, complete with the cash he’d been about to grab. “Sampson. But you can call me Martin About to Be Out of Your Hair,” he said abruptly. “Thanks for the nice time, soldier. See you around.”
He was dressing as he said it, the kind of quick, efficient movements of someone who was apparently used to getting in and out of his clothes a lot.
And then he was standing at the door before Henry could get awkward about not wanting to leave his wallet in the same room with the guy, even if Martin had just refused any payment for what had been about to be a business transaction.
“You said you’re going to visit your brother?” Martin asked carefully, thin face expressionless.
“Yeah?”
“Good. I hope you both find your way home.”
