Page 73 of Amid Our Lines

“We,” Martin corrected. “I’m with you. You know that, right?”

“I…” Adrian found it wasn’t easy to swallow past the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Good.” It was gentle, and Martin rested a hand on Adrian’sshoulder for a beat before he turned to the bar. “Whiskey? Unless you think a fuck is what you need—think there’s a guy in your bed who can help with that.”

It was tempting. But everything was still so raw, and Eric had thiswayof asking about Adrian’s evening, always happy to listen to a story about a quirky guest—and the thing was that if Eric asked tonight? Adrian might burst into tears.

Hardly the best way to make Eric stay till summer.

“One glass,” Adrian said. Chances were it wouldn’t make him feel better, but neither would water nor milk. Maybe a swim in the booze pool was just what he needed to drown his sorrows.

“One glass,” Martin agreed. “If by ‘one’ you mean ‘several’?”

It didn’t require a response. So Adrian grabbed two glasses while Martin selected a bottle. Together, they made their way to the fireplace. The first sip left a smoky trail of heat, and Adrian took a second right away. His thoughts crackled like the flames, casting phantom shadows inside his head.

He wanted a do-over of the day. Or the last five years, possibly, so he could remove that bloody water tank himself—with his bare hands if he had to. Since that option wasn’t on the table, he sagged back in his armchair and settled for another mouthful.

Just … fuck.

Something was off.

It was small things, like how Adrian showed up late to set the tables for dinner, and when Eric smiled at him, it took a beat too long for Adrian to react.

It was bigger things too, like how Adrian still wasn’t there when Eric turned off the light. Adrian crawled into bed at some point, reeking of alcohol and mumbling something about a drink with Martin as he shuffled up against Eric’s back and promptly fell asleep. Eric listened to his quiet, snuffling breaths and told himself he wasn’tjealous because one, he had no right to be, and two, Martin was happy with Matteo and wouldn’t risk that. Would he?

Adrian hadn’t asked for a line of the day.

The next morning, he seemed distracted during their morning run, and when he grinned at something Eric said, it didn’t reach his eyes. Afterwards, he pressed Eric against the tiles in the shower and took him with quick, urgent thrusts, one hand wrapped around Eric’s cock and the other light against his neck. They shared deep, wet kisses as they came down, water gushing around them. Then Adrian left to take care of something he felt no need to specify—he’d grab a bite on his way out,see you later, yeah?A half-arsed smile, a light peck of Eric’s cheek, and he was gone.

Eric sat down on their bed. OnAdrian’sbed. Of course it was Adrian’s bed. That they’d shared it for a couple of weeks didn’t give Eric the right to consider it theirs. The drawers and empty shelves in the wardrobe he’d been able to claim so his clothes didn’t form a tangled pile in his suitcase? Didn’t mean a thing, just that the space had been available because the flat had been laid out for Adrian’s parents. Nothing meant anything.

Eric took a big, gulping breath. It didn’t help.

So. That was that, then. He hadn’t even managed to hold Adrian’s interest for a whole two months.

It fuckinghurt.

Because somewhere along the way, Eric had done what he always did—he’d gone ahead and fallen in stupid fucking love. He was a bloody idiot, wasn’t he? Hadn’t even noticed he’d slipped right back into old patterns, not until the rug got pulled out from under his feet. The other times had been like a punch to the gut, sudden and blinding. This time, it had crept up on him, winding its sticky tendrils around him until he was so tangled up in Adrian he couldn’t see straight anymore.

He was on Adrian’s bed.

In Adrian’s room, his flat, his hotel.

Eric was just helping out for the season—this wasn’t his home.And now that Adrian was tired of him … where did that leave Eric? Packing, most likely.

The pressure behind his sternum spiralled out and gripped his intestines. He jumped up and dashed into the bathroom, bent over the sink and sucked in a breath, and another. His eyes were wide in the mirror.

All just in his head.Fucking get it together.

He splashed cold water on his face and straightened. If Adrian was done with him… Well, Eric wasn’t about to beg. Yeah, he’d been stupid enough to hand over his heart because it wasAdrianand maybe Eric had been doomed from the start. But his dignity? That, at least, he could protect.

Head high, shoulders back. It didn’t loosen the fist that gripped his lungs andsqueezed, but at least it made him feel like he was still in control, somehow. He nodded at his reflection and turned to leave.

Sunlight slanted into the bedroom, catching in the blue sheets, still messed up from where they’d slept. Eric halted, his hopeless heart giving a painful lurch in his chest. Impeccable timing—catching feelings right as Adrian hit the exit. God, Eric was such an idiot.

He’d been the one to make the bed most mornings. This time, he walked right past it to the wardrobe and pulled it open. His suitcase had been shoved behind Adrian’s summer jackets and short-sleeved shirts. Eric dragged it out and set it down on the floor, then sat back on his haunches until the dizziness passed.

Okay. One thing after the other. He needed to locate his clothes and pack them up, including the ones that were mixed in with Adrian’s stuff. Then he’d drag his suitcase back to his own room and return for the rest of his things, like his shoes and scattered notes on the standup piano, or the book on the bedside table. And then… Then he’d decide how long he could handle staying.

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