Only You (5 page)

A minor note of panic sounded as an echo to that thought. He had no rising soulmark. His skin was as bare and smooth as ever, while Nick’s…

Stop.
Barrett pushed the pulse of alarm aside before he could take a close enough look to read the fine print between its lines.
Deal with it later.

If Nick had heard his order, Barrett couldn’t tell. He’d clapped a hand to the back of his neck when the bell rang. Barrett couldn’t tell if he knew what he’d done, either. “Hell,” he said. “That’ll be Daniel. We forgot about him, didn’t we?”

Rhetorical questions didn’t need answering, but no matter how jangled his nerves, Barrett didn’t have it in him to be the kind of bastard who wouldn’t give a reply. “We did. He won’t mind waiting.” Barrett pursed his lips. “He wouldn’t mind coming back, either, if you…”

“What?” Nick scratched lightly at the developing soulmark, made a sour face, and held his hands out in front of him.

Barrett could almost see him thinking—could watch the illumination and dread chasing themselves around and around in half-drunken circles.

“No,” Nick said at last, touching his mouth. “No. Better not. Wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“And we’d have to explain why. Or lie,” Barrett said.

Nick didn’t back down. “Or that. I don’t know how convincing I could be. Do you?”

“Not very at all.” Barrett pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, hell.” Logic dictated he make their excuses and send Daniel packing. The more illogical side of him, the one that couldn’t bear this steel-wool tension a second longer, snatched at a reprieve. “Are you sure?”

“Sure enough. Just…get dressed first?”

Barrett rolled his eyes. “No, I’m planning on opening the door stark naked. Idiot.” He tweaked a lock of Nick’s hair, the way he always did when he had a point to make. The way he always had done. The smallest little gesture of affection. Should have been the most natural thing in the world.

It really, really wasn’t. He could tell Nick didn’t think so, either.

Call him a coward, call him a weakling—Barrett couldn’t face the wary unease in Nick’s face another second longer. He turned his back, calling over his shoulder, “Put some clean clothes on yourself, too, would you? I’ll stall him.”

“Barrett.” Nick touched the back of Barrett’s neck.

Barrett stopped, nearly between steps, and only managed not to fall thanks to catching the doorframe with his shoulder. He licked his lips. “Yeah?”

The tickling sensation of Nick riffling through the short-cut tips of his hair at the nape of his neck drew goosebumps to Barrett’s skin. So gentle. No, not gentle. Cautious. Uncertain. “You don’t have one,” he said.

“No,” Barrett said, not looking back. “I don’t.”

“For a second there, I’d hoped.” Nick’s laugh was a ragged and unkind thing. No surprise. Matching soulmarks always—as far as Barrett knew—sparked to life at the same time. “Stupid of me.”

“Don’t think about it right now. Or if you can’t put it out of your mind, then don’t talk about it in front of Daniel.” Barrett nearly didn’t recognize the sound of himself. He’d never been so stern, so remote, in his life.

As if he hadn’t heard, Nick didn’t stop carding the short ends of Barrett’s hair. “What are we supposed to do now?” he asked, quiet as a deer picking its way through a fog bank.

Barrett wished he had any kind of answer to give. He didn’t. He shook his head and stepped away from Nick’s touch, toward the patient knocking at their door.

* * * *

Nick resettled the band around his hair as he dodged into the kitchen. It went to show how much this had rattled Barrett, too, he thought. Barrett had gone to the front door almost blindly, when he knew as well as Nick that Daniel never came in the front. He’d used the back door since the day they’d met.

As a last-minute impulse, Nick plucked a rubber band from the junk drawer by the door and wound it around his wrist. Negative reinforcement worked for smokers and nail-biters, or at least he’d always heard as much.

Daniel looked a million miles away, more distracted than usual. He held a pair of heavy work gloves draped across one arm almost like a baby, and blinked at Nick as if waking up from a long winter’s nap. “I wondered if you were still here.”

“Sorry?”

“I tried calling,” Daniel said, visibly drifting away again then just as visibly snapping himself back to the present. “No one answered.”

Nick hadn’t heard the phone ring. Then again, he doubted he’d have heard an elephant charging through one wall of their cottage and out the other side again when he and Barrett had been in bed together, much less after. “Got caught up in a few things,” he said, the understatement slapping him in the ears. “Barrett! Back door.”

“Damn it,” Barrett grumbled, doing a U-turn from the front. Almost made Nick laugh. Silly old creature. He perked up as he approached. “Are those my work gloves? Thanks. I didn’t realize I’d left them.”

“Hmm? Oh. This. Yes. I thought I’d bring them back before I forgot, too.” Daniel pushed the gloves at Nick. Nick caught them without fumbling, but only barely. He frowned. There was distraction, and there was cause for worry. Daniel came awfully close to crossing the line.

He must have realized it. He grimaced at Nick. “I’d tried to call to tell you I’d better cancel for tonight. Figured you weren’t at home anyway and I’d leave these on the doorstep.”

“Come on, we wouldn’t forget you,” Barrett protested, resting a casual arm on Nick’s shoulder as he used to. Habit? Maybe. He tilted his head and gestured at Daniel with his free hand. “Everything okay? You’re acting a little…”

Daniel grimaced as he waved the concern aside. “Don’t worry about me. Some unexpected news tonight, that’s all. It’ll be fine.”

Yeah? Join the club.
Nick pressed slightly harder against Barrett, soaking up his warmth. “You don’t exactly look fine.”

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck, absently but roughly. “Something happened that… I’m not sure what it means. I will, though.”

Barrett nudged Nick in the ribs. Nick knew what he meant without Barrett needing to say it—
ease off.

Good advice, but Nick never had been head of the class at following orders. Especially not when it came to someone he cared about, in whatever fashion. Even with their world turned topsy-turvy, the notion of sending Daniel off all by his lonesome chafed. “You’re still welcome to eat with us. We wouldn’t mind having you. Honest.”

“No? I’d mind being had,” Daniel said, giving Nick one of his more unreadable looks. “Let this one go, Nick.”

“All right, all right,” Nick said, stung. He raised his hands, palms out. “Suit yourself.”

God help him, he’d meant for that to be it. Nick would swear it on a stack of Bibles. End of conversation. His lips moved without his permission, though, and he blurted, “Daniel. Do you have a soulmate?”

Barrett winced.

Daniel raised his head, the movement sharp, brittle, and stiff. “Excuse me?”

“
Shit
.” Nick covered his face in a vain effort to stave off an embarrassed rush of heat in his cheeks. “I didn’t mean any offense—”

Daniel didn’t seem distant now. More like he could take a bite out of Nick and a strip off his hide to boot. “Don’t ever ask that again,” he said. “Enjoy your evening together.”

Nick thumped his head against the door when he swung it closed. He could feel the piercing weight of Barrett’s stare slicing through him. “Don’t ask. I don’t know why I did that. Aside from being a moron.”

“As if that’s news.” Barrett snorted quietly. He ran the tip of his tongue flicker-quick across his lips and didn’t stop staring at Nick. Seemed almost as if he couldn’t stop. “Did you realize you’d parted your hair right above the mark?”

Had he? Nick felt quickly. He had.
Damn it
. “And?”

“It’s gotten darker, I think.” Barrett guided Nick’s head down and sifted through his hair.

Nick breathed out slowly. No need to ask. He knew what Barrett would see. He could feel it, in a strange way. More so than before. Darker indeed. Tea with three drops of cream instead of four, but plain enough to the focused eye. He knew it even before Barrett breathed, “Shit,” and let his hair fall back in place.

And that was it, for Nick. The last straw. The final fucking sliver that broke the camel’s back.
Enough.
He reached without looking and managed, just, to bump his knuckles against Barrett’s wrist. From there, he wrapped his fingers around the fine bones and held on like a bracelet. “Don’t go.”

Barrett would have—at any other time—mirrored Nick’s movement. Laced their fingers together. Whether by instinct, reflex, or habit, Nick’s fingers twitched at the sense memory. “Do I have a choice? We can’t shut our eyes and ignore it, Nick.”

“Can’t we?”

Barrett scoffed. “Sure. I can see it hurts you. You can barely keep from picking at it like a kid with chicken pox.”

“It hurts now,” Nick said. “It won’t always hurt. If Ivan could do it, so can I.”

Barrett’s forehead wrinkled when he frowned. “You’re not serious.”

“Aren’t I? Watch me.” Nick changed his trajectory and made for the kitchen. The smell of that beef stew would drive him crazy after smelling it all night if he didn’t manage to sneak a taste, and he wanted some. “This is our house,” he said. “Our home. You’re the mate I chose. I’m not going to let a fucking soulmark change that.”

“Nick…” Barrett started. “Do you know how crazy you sound?”

“Yes. And I don’t care.”

“You don’t mean that,” Barrett said, slowly—but hopefully. He bit his lip when Nick glanced up at him. He wanted to listen. Good.

“I do mean it,” Nick said. “Every word. So I have a soulmark now? So be it. That doesn’t mean I’m leaving you to go track down some stranger. I’ve loved you since before I knew what love was. Are you willing to toss all that aside because the rules say we should?”

“You know I’m not.”

“Okay, then.” Nick dropped the work gloves to land where they liked on the floor and stalked into their kitchen. He lifted the lid of the slow cooker and let the rich smell of beef and carrots and red wine saturate his sense of smell. “I’m not stupid, Barrett. I know it isn’t that simple. It isn’t even supposed to be possible, but since when do we let that stop us, right?”

Barrett’s lips twitched in an almost-smile. He moved closer, slowly but surely and steadily. Much better. “True,” he said.

“Good.” Nick tore off a chunk of bread from an unwrapped loaf on the counter, dipped it in the gravy, and lifted it to Barrett’s mouth. He thumbed a drop of savory juice off Barrett’s lip. “Then that’s that, and let’s eat. It’d be a shame to let this go to waste. And you are hungry, aren’t you?”

“Starving.” Barrett exhaled. He looked tired and old as he propped himself against the counter. Hesitant, too, but…still, maybe, a little hopeful. “You really think you can do this?”

“Nope.
We
can. You and me,” Nick said. “We’ll manage, and nothing has to change, not really. You’ll see.”

It didn’t look as if Barrett believed him. Nick wasn’t sure he believed himself, but none of that mattered. All that counted was Barrett’s nod. He’d try.

Nick took a deep breath. All right, then.
Here we go.

Chapter Four

Nick slept late the next morning, as was his preference and habit on Sundays. He dragged the duvet over his head when dawn crept through the bedroom windows and slept on as sunlight turned their home first pink and yellow, then pale gray.

Barrett woke early. Not out of choice. He’d much rather have curled up next to Nick, head tucked against Nick’s shoulder. Brushing away the rogue hairs that always, always fell across his nose and mouth the second he’d gotten comfortable, but he couldn’t sleep. Never had been great at dropping off, and if he happened to open his eyes during the night? Forget it. Might as well crawl out of bed and find something useful to do with his time while Nick snored on.

Sometimes, he’d envied Nick that ability. Sometimes not.

This day, of all days, Barrett wasn’t sure what he thought about it all. Easier not to think. He’d be happier if he could put everything out of his mind.

Might as well wish for the moon while he was at it.

Barrett scoffed at himself as he padded barefooted to the kitchen in search of coffee.
I’m being maudlin. Maudlin and ridiculous, and for what?
Nick might be right, he told himself, rummaging as quietly as he could through cupboards and cabinets. Not for any particular reason. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped himself, counted to ten—then to thirty—and filled the electric kettle up to the top. It was all too easy to get sidetracked, watching Nick. Advantage, or disadvantage, of the open plan house—no secrets and, no matter where you went, a clear line of sight.

Bathroom excepted. There were a
few
limits.

Nick lay on his stomach. He’d kicked off the duvet Barrett had tossed over him when sneaking out of bed, and it’d slid off the foot of the mattress to crumple in a pile on the floor. The sheet had followed, and if Nick hadn’t had a death grip on his pillow, it probably would have suffered the same fate. Barrett’s had, and it lolled in a sad little lump off the side of the bed. The edge of the bag he’d hidden Nick’s replacement wrist cuff in peeped from underneath it.

As Barrett watched, Nick mumbled something unintelligible and snuffled into his pillow. He always had been prone to talking in his sleep. Never anything that made sense, but funny as hell to listen to when Barrett was in the mood. One time he’d carried on a monologue about rutabaga kings until Barrett’s stifled laughter woke him. Too bad he hadn’t gotten that one on tape.

No filibusters today
, Barrett noted idly, listening with one ear for the kettle. Just scraps of this and that. Not quite bad dreams, but maybe not the most comforting thoughts either. Nick growled, a grumbling sort of noise, and hugged the pillow tighter, pressing his face into its soft squishiness.

Which would have been funny, if it hadn’t bared Nick’s neck. His arched neck, back strung like a bow with the newly formed soulmark at its crown.