Love And The Real Boy - Coming About, Book 2 (27 page)

And that brought him back full circle to what he needed to do for Patrick. It seemed a bit early to test their budding truce-slash-friendship, but Rich needed Justice’s help. “Can I ask you a favor? I want to do something for him—for Patrick.”

Justice swiped another errant tear from his cheek and looked across the dock first at Patrick watching the boat sail, and then at the craft itself. He took a deep hitching breath. “That man brought my love’s most treasured possession back to life. I’ll help you do anything you need, for him.”

The relief was like a weight lifted from Rich’s shoulders. He smiled and nodded his thanks, and joined Justice in watching the
Galeocerdo
fly.

Chapter Twenty-Three

A few weeks later, Rich found himself at the marina once again. He was meeting Rory, Justice, and Nic there. Though he’d had drinks with Rory a couple of times since the launch, and he’d even had dinner with the three of them after Justice and Nic got back from their honeymoon, his stomach still lodged in his throat every time he was with them—he was working on it.

Rory was waiting on the dock—at the
Galeocerdo’s
normal slip at the Bellevue Marina—and it looked like he was the first one there. He was wearing similar sailing gear to Rich: chinos and a polo, deck shoes and a light windbreaker. Summer was ending, and autumn was descending upon the Pacific Northwest, so it would be chilly out on the water. Even now, a breeze ruffled Rory’s hair as Rich walked up to him.

“Hey,” Rich said cautiously, hating his insecurity. He stood with his head ducked, hands tucked inside his pockets because he couldn’t figure what else to do with them.

Rory smiled, but it wasn’t the same sweet, adoring smile he used to give him. That one might be gone forever. “Hey,” he answered. “No suit?”

Rich made a sound in his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. Might as well go for full disclosure, it wasn’t as if he had anything left to lose from Rory. “Yeah, no. The suits were…like my armor. They kept the world from getting to me. I don’t really need them anymore—except for work or when the occasion calls for it—because the universe and I, we’ve come to an understanding.”

Rory nodded and laughed, and maybe the smile reached his eyes just a bit more. “Good. That’s good, man. I’m glad you worked it out.”

And that right there, that cool detachment was what squeezed Rich’s heart in a vise. “I’d like to tell you about it sometime…you know, like we used to. The shit and the good stuff. Maybe you won’t hate me as much after.”

Placing a heavy paw on Rich’s shoulder, Rory squeezed until Rich looked him in the eye. “I don’t
hate
you. I couldn’t. And, fuck, if Justice can forgive you and Nic—well, he’s getting there—then I sure as hell can.”

Rich sighed and leaned into the touch, the open gesture of camaraderie. “It’s not just forgiveness I want from you. I need your friendship. I want you in my life again. I love Patrick. He’s my rock, but he can’t be
everything
. I need you too.”

Rory moved his hand to rub Rich’s back. “You got me. We’re good.”

Just like that. From most people, it would seem insincere, but that was just Rory—a man of few words and a whole lot of touch. Rich felt something inside him shift, fall back into place, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Rory’s chuckle rumbled up from his deep chest. “I see you’ve still got your flaming phallus-on-wheels even after the whole suit revelation,” he said, referring to Rich’s Camaro.

“Now that?
That’s
just fucking fun to drive.” He glanced over at his cherry-red, cherry-everything muscle car. “And don’t talk shit about my baby. Even Patrick doesn’t get away with that. Besides, he’ll never admit it, but driving it gives him a hard-on.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Rory said, stepping back and putting some distance between them.

When Rich looked at him again, really
looked
, he noticed the lines around Rory’s mouth, between his brows and across his forehead that hadn’t been so prominent before. That carefree, boyish look about him was gone, and he appeared…tense. Suddenly, Rich wanted to kick himself for being so goddamned self-absorbed all the time. Sure, he’d had problems, but clearly, he wasn’t the only one.

“Everything okay, man? You seem a little stressed. Problems at school?” Rich knew how much Rory loved teaching. He hoped there wasn’t any issue with his job.

Rory frowned as if he was surprised anyone had noticed. He thought about it for a moment, before giving a quick jerk of a nod, like he’d decided something. “Maybe we should have a little sit-down, you and me. I really want to hear about the stuff you’ve been going through…and I’ve been dealing with some problems myself, and I didn’t want to bog Justice down with it during all the wedded bliss and whatnot.”

Rich stared at Rory, trying to find a way to convey his abject sincerity. “You can tell me anything, Ror, I promise. I want us to be there for each other again.”

Rory swallowed hard and looked down. “It’s nothing at school. It’s Maia, she’s—”

“Well, this is a sorry excuse for a crew,” shouted a gruff voice from behind them, but when Rich turned around, Nic was smiling—for once. Hand in hand with Justice, he looked Rory and Rich up and down with exaggerated scrutiny. “But I guess you’ll have to do. Who’s ready to sail?”

Rich gave Rory an apologetic look and mouthed ‘later’ to him. To Nic, he said, “We’re just waiting on Patrick. I told him a little later so that we could get everything ready first. It might be a challenge to get him on the boat.”

“Justice told me he’s afraid of boating. Isn’t that a little odd for a guy who repairs boats for a living?”

“He’s not exactly
afraid
…well, he kind of is, but it’s more of a PTSD thing, I think. He was in a sailing accident a few years ago. His friend didn’t make it.” Rich gave Nic the most pleading, puppy-dog look he could muster. He still had his pride after all. “I was hoping maybe you could talk to him, tell him how you were able to get back on the water after your accident.”

Nic rolled his eyes and brushed past him toward the boat. “No need for the histrionics. Of course, I’ll talk to him. It’s a shame for anyone who loves sailing to be afraid of the water. No promises, though,” he said, looking back over his shoulder as he climbed the ladder to the deck. “I’m not a psychologist, and I can’t make it happen if he doesn’t want it to.”

“Duly noted,” Rich said and made eye contact with each of the three men. “And thanks for this, all of you. It really breaks my heart to see how much he wants to be out here.”

“Shit, here he is,” Justice hissed. All their heads turned to watch the sleek black truck pull into a parking space.

“Talk about a phallus-on-wheels,” Rich said, mocking Rory’s earlier words and getting a laugh out of him. “I better go meet him so I can talk to him first. See you on board?”

Justice and Rory nodded, but Rich didn’t wait for an answer. He strode down the pier toward Patrick, hoping he looked more confident than he felt. When they met in the middle, he opened his mouth to speak, but Patrick swooped in on him for a kiss.

He banded those steely arms around Rich and dove in, demanding entry and going straight for the kill. Patrick’s tongue slowly fucked Rich’s mouth, melting his brain into a puddle of goo, while he ground his semi-hard cock against Rich’s belly. After what could have been an hour and Rich wouldn’t have complained, Patrick pulled back, nipping his bottom lip on the way.

“Hi,” Patrick breathed and leaned his forehead against Rich’s. “I missed you.”

“You just saw me last night,” Rich said with a breathless laugh. “But I missed you too.”

Patrick rolled his head back and forth to shake it without separating their foreheads, and stroked Rich’s face with both of his hands. “Not enough. Never enough. We really should talk about moving in together.”

Rich blinked, surprised, because Patrick had never even brought the subject up before. Of course, he’d been thinking about it himself since they’d confessed their feelings to one another. He had a knee-jerk reaction of panic when he thought about not having his own private space, but then he thought about falling asleep every night wrapped up in Patrick’s scent and taste and body, waking up together…his heart and his dick started screaming
now, right the hell now!

“Is that something you want?”

“Of course it is, are you daft?” Patrick nipped at his lips again to take the sting out of the words. “We can talk about it later.”

Rich hummed as he wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist, hoping to avoid the inevitable and get wrapped up in another soul-stealing kiss. But Patrick pulled back and flicked an apprehensive look toward the
Galeocerdo
.

“Why’d you want me to meet you here? Is something wrong with the boat?”

“No, nothing like that. There’s something I want you to do for me. You may not like it.” Rich bit his lip and waited, wondering if Patrick would put it together before he spelled it out for him.

“Babe, you know I’d do anything for you. Name it.”

Wincing at the words he was sure Patrick would regret, Rich took his hand and started leading him to the sailboat. “I want you to go sailing with me.”

Patrick stopped walking so abruptly that their connected hands and Rich’s momentum nearly jerked his shoulder out of the socket. He turned around in time to see all of Patrick’s muscles lock up tight, and he looked at the boat like it was a three-headed monster.

“You know I…After what happened…I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Calm, patient, but persistent
. It was the mantra Rich repeated to himself as he studied his boyfriend’s crumpling face. “Yes, you can. I know you’ve been on the water when you’ve absolutely had to for work, even though you were terrified. I’m asking you to do that for me now.

“You know Nic was in a similar accident, though nobody died. I was hoping you’d talk to him, let him tell you how he got over it. If you hate it, if you categorically cannot relax, then we’ll take you back. It’s just a tool around Lake Washington.” Rich captured Patrick’s hand again and squeezed it between his. He hoped Patrick could see how much he wanted this for him. “Please.”

Patrick sighed and visibly forced his muscles to unclench, but he was still not at ease. His jaw twitched a couple of times as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. “If this is something you really want, I’ll do it for you.” His look and his tone were clear—Rich had better have a good reason for putting him through this.

Rich sent up silent prayers to whatever deities might exist that Patrick could let go of his fears and have a good time, otherwise they were probably in for one hell of a fight.

* * * *

The
Galeocerdo
at full sail was a sight to behold. The little ketch sliced through the calm water at a brisk clip, and her billowing sails gleamed white in the midday sun. Nic was manning the tiller, his shaggy blond hair loose and whipping around his deeply tanned face. He looked totally in his element, smiling into the spray.

Justice sat as close to him on the cockpit bench as he could possibly get without actually sitting in his lap. Rory was up on the bow deck taking pictures—he’d said he wanted to demonstrate some techniques for his class.

And Patrick…well, Patrick crouched beside Rich on the bench with one hand clenched in Rich’s and the other white-knuckled on the rope railing. Rich could tell that every single one of his muscles was on lockdown, ready to spring if something bad happened.

Rich had to find a way to get his man to relax. Patrick was staring down at his Top-siders that rested on the freshly laid teak flooring. His eyes roved back and forth, but he wasn’t really seeing; he was inside his head, possibly back in Ireland. Rich wondered if he got Patrick to be present in the moment, to enjoy sailing instead of reliving the wreck, if he could overcome his fear.

Rich searched the water for inspiration, some idea to pull Patrick’s attention to where it belonged—on the boats, the water. His eyes widened when he got more than he bargained for.

“Holy shit, is that a pirate ship?”

Finally, Patrick pried his fingers off of Rich’s so he could twist around and look. His posture relaxed an immeasurable degree, and his expression shifted from strained to curious in a matter of seconds. He straightened his neck to see over the railing to what Rich was looking at and then—
thank fuck
—he smiled.

“Yeah, it actually kind of is. I forgot that was this weekend. We must be close to Carillon Point. It’s the
Lady Washington
. She’s a replica of an eighteenth century trading vessel, and was used in one of the nautical battles in
Pirates of the Caribbean.
She’s usually berthed down in Gray’s Harbor, but they’ve sailed her and another ship up to Carillon Point for a mock battle for Labor Day weekend. I completely forgot it was today.”

Rich rose up until he was kneeling on the bench and leaning against the railing. “Look!” he pointed, feeling kind of like the little kid he should have gotten to be. “There’s the other one. They’re all dressed as pirates!”

Patrick’s hand clenched on his shoulder, and when Rich looked back at him, he was deathly pale.
Shit, so much for progress
. “It’s okay,” he said, making sure Patrick really heard him. “We’re okay. The sky is clear, and we’re going slow.”