Here for You (26 page)

“Look, Brendan couldn’t tell you because he’s gone, and I couldn’t tell you because—”

Ian stopped.

“Because why?” Cole could barely see through the tears welling in his eyes.

“Because Brendan is dead and you were hurting so much. And some decisions should be made with clear heads, not broken hearts.”

“I deserved to know. And I can take care of my own heart.” Cole thumped his chest. “I’ve been taking care of myself for years. I should have known about the brother the second you knew. And you robbed me of that.” He started to walk away before his temper went totally nuclear.

“Cole!” Ian called. He grabbed him. “Don’t you dare walk off! We’re having a fight, but don’t let your insecurities make you run. Stay and have it out with me. Don’t storm off like some immature b—” Ian halted. He drew a short breath.

“Like some
what
?” Cole whirled around. “Some immature brat? Hell, Ian. Is that what you think of me? After all this time?” His voice cracked, unsteady.

“Cole—” Ian opened his mouth and closed it, at a loss, probably for the first time in his life, for what to say.

“I’m not some brat because I care,” Cole said quietly. “Because I
feel
. I risk things. Unlike you, my life isn’t dictated by logic. And who the fuck are you to decide what I should or shouldn’t know? You don’t have that right.”

“I thought we were together.” Ian stared at him with haunted, somber eyes.

“Yeah, I thought so too.” Cole gave a bitter laugh and pulled away from him. “Don’t say anything else.”

He bolted down the street, not caring how immature Ian might consider his actions. All his feelings of failure, of not being enough for Ian or anybody else, and all his disappointments in people from his past lying to him or letting him down swirled inside of him until he felt lost and sick and needed to be alone.

C
OLE
WENT
home and curled up on his bed. His heart felt whipped. Maybe he did have high expectations, but was that so wrong? Cole had never been in a serious relationship before. He’d never let another guy in.

There was a knock on his door. Tomas entered before he had a chance to answer. “What gives? You tore into the house and upstairs like a bat out of hell.” Tomas eyed him with concern. “And you look drained.”

Cole hugged a pillow to his chest. “Nothing. Just upset over that letter.”

“You weren’t this upset before.”

“I’ve had time to think about it.”

“What did Ian say about it?” Tomas narrowed his eyes. “Did he see it differently?”

Cole let out a harsh laugh. “You could say that. Ian
already
knew.”

“What?” At Tomas’s baffled expression, Cole filled him in on what Ian knew and their fight.

Tomas groaned. “To me that sounds as if both of you said a lot of things in the heat of the moment.”

“Yeah.” Cole stared down at his feet. “Well, I’m not sorry. I have a right to feel betrayed.”

“Sure.” Tomas nodded. “But I get why he did it.”

“What? You’re taking his side? Ian lied… by omission, but a lie.”

“I’m on your side, idiot.” Tomas cuffed his head. “Always.”

The anger inside Cole eased a little. No matter what, he still had his friends. “Thanks.”

“But how is this so different than your protecting Brendan’s feelings by not admitting your feelings for Ian? Or Brendan protecting you by not telling about a brother he wanted to meet with so desperately?”

“Oh shit. Here comes the lecture, right?” Cole shifted his weight from side to side. Yet he couldn’t deny a kernel of wisdom in Tomas’s soft words.

Tomas crossed his arms at his chest. “You got it. Put on some big boy pants and listen. I want you to think this through from Ian’s viewpoint. If you’ve got a serious thing going with him, you owe it to Ian to try. Don’t piss it away. Ian struggled over the information. He’s an honest person normally, but telling you must have filled him with dread.”

Cole sniffed. “Why? He tells me lots of things. He has no problem giving me advice.”

“This isn’t advice. This is hurting you with information. Ian would hate that so much because….”

“Because?”

“Because maybe he’s crazy about you?” Tomas suggested with a twinkling sparkle in his dark eyes.

Cole glanced away, embarrassed. “You think?”

Cole wanted to believe it. He’d just started to trust in his own love for Ian, and love was hard for him to believe in.

“Yeah, I do. God knows why.”

“Shut up. He’d be lucky to be with me.” The words felt like sawdust in his mouth. Since the fight, not a second had passed where he wasn’t afraid it was too late.

“That’s exactly right.” Tomas put his hand on Cole’s shoulder. “And you’re lucky to have him too. Cole, man, before Ian, I never saw you so balls-deep into any one guy. It’s like he’s all you want. He must make you pretty happy, right? One fight can’t change it.”

“So you’re saying I’m the asshole here, after all?”

Tomas half smiled and half shrugged.

Huh.

Tomas’s nonverbal answer spoke volumes. Maybe he had fought with Ian precisely
because
he’d been happy. Did that even make sense? In his screwed-up world it did.

Because no matter how far he’d come or how much he’d changed, Cole still carried his childhood inside, still carried that hurt boy expecting to be told he wasn’t worthy. With a sharp pang, he remembered the last time he and Ian made love. How gentle Ian had been when he’d touched him. How passionate—the sweet-musky scent in the air between them, the look of intense wonder in Ian’s eyes. He suddenly wanted to go backward in time and grab that moment again and never let it go.

“All I’m saying is talk to him. Think about it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Cole let out a shaky breath. “Tomas? Thanks.”

“No problem. In this house we’re due for something good, right? I hope it can be you and Ian.”

Cole hoped so too. Yet he was afraid. Today he’d learned how much power Ian had to hurt him. He’d fallen so hard and so fast—he’d been totally unprepared. But was anybody ever prepared for love? Somehow Cole needed to come to terms with his swirling emotions. He wasn’t ready to see Ian. Not until he figured out how to love him and still protect himself.

T
HE
DAY
of Ian’s tattoo appointment arrived. Cole still hadn’t spoken to Ian. He had ignored his phone calls and feared Ian would show up at the bar. Both relief and disappointment flooded him when Ian did not pursue him at work. He’d calmed down enough to understand why Ian had not told him about Brendan’s brother. Cole replayed all the times he’d expressed his hurt to Ian about Brendan. He understood Ian acted out of compassion. But he also didn’t know where this left them. Ian had not called in twenty-four hours. Did that mean he was done with Cole? Did he even still want to talk? Or had Cole shown his insecurities, and now Ian wanted to simply be done with him?

Tomas was right. Cole needed to stop running. He needed some faith, and not only in Ian, but in himself too. Cole wandered over to his laptop. He began to write, the words simply clicking into place. It was a story of two brothers and their dreams. It was all of them—a little bit of Brendan, Marc, Tomas, and himself—and none of them. Like a beautiful tapestry, Cole weaved together bits and pieces into something all his own, his imagination the thread. When he finished, Cole sat back and read the story.

It was good, damn it. He felt it in his gut. Without pausing, Cole clicked on a publisher he’d added to his favorites long ago, skimmed through their guidelines, and readied his story for submission. He hesitated for only a second, his heart galloping wildly. He knew this was his dream. He had known it for a long time. But until this moment he had never been confident or brave enough to try. With his throat burning and his hands shaking, he hit the send option.

Since this one was fine with simultaneous submissions, Cole decided to do a few more. He found another publisher and sent the story once more. Two chances. Cole sat back. He had done it!

Oh God. Cole wrung his hands together. He
had
really done it. He wanted to throw up. He pinched the bridge of his nose until he felt better. For better or worse, he had done the right thing.

A little shamefully, Cole realized he hadn’t given Ian a chance to really talk. He would not be here, sending off his treasured story, if not for Ian. Maybe Ian had been wrong, but Cole had been the uncharitable one. For the next few hours, Cole kept glancing at the clock. He knew exactly when Ian had the scheduled appointment. If Ian was going through with it. Cole bit his lip. He made some coffee. He would have had his tattoo outlined the day before, but this was the big day for the actual tattoo.

Cole sucked in a breath. He wondered if Ian were nervous. The thought of needles always worried Cole. The thought of Ian in pain was far worse. He looked again at the clock.

Fuck this.
Let Ian kick his ass to the curb. He had to go. He had to try to fix things. If he didn’t, he’d let Ian down again. Worse, if he didn’t try, it would be like his writing had been for all these years—stuck and hidden away.

“Tomas!” Cole ran up to his room. “I need to borrow the truck again!”

I
AN
STOOD
outside the tattoo parlor, butterflies in his stomach. Or maybe they were bowling balls. Still, he could do this. He wanted to do it. Only… he hadn’t planned on doing it alone.

It was his fault. Ian accepted that he’d made the wrong choices with Cole. He should have had more faith in Cole to take in the news about Brendan. More importantly, he shouldn’t have tried to turn the argument around as if Cole were in the wrong. The lawyer in him had looked for a loophole. But arguing that he had done it for Cole’s own good or that Cole expected too much had been a dumb move. It was anything but fair to Cole too.

Ian had no clue what to do. He jammed his hands into his pockets, studying the tattoo parlor door. He glanced at his car parked nearby. Glanced again at the tattoo parlor entrance. What did he think? Getting this would somehow atone for their fight? Cole wouldn’t even know he’d done it. Maybe he’d already moved on, back to his old ways of casual hookups and a world far beyond Ian.

Loneliness, his constant companion the last few days, overwhelmed him. He missed Cole’s voice, his face, his laugh. Maybe he was no good at relationships. He could learn again to be alone.

“Ian!”

At the sound of Cole’s voice, all kinds of emotions crashed through Ian, none of them reasonable or logical. His pulse sped up as Cole closed the distance between them.

“Cole.” Without thinking, Ian ran his hand down Cole’s cheek. “I’m sorry.” Ian’s throat tightened on the words, a huge lump forming.

“Me too. I overreacted.” Cole leaned in and pressed a kiss on his lips. “And I missed you like hell.”

Ian couldn’t answer, or he felt he’d actually cry. He kissed Cole, his grip tightening around him, until they were both dreamy and breathless. Even when they ended the kiss, they still held hands, looking into each other’s eyes.

“So…. Ready for makeup sex?” Cole drawled, a teasing grin on his face.

“So ready.” Ian turned to lead Cole to his BMW.

“Oh, wait! I meant after your appointment.”

“I don’t want to wait. Nothing is more important than you are,” Ian growled.

Cole’s face softened. “I want you too. All night. But this first. It’s part of what we planned together. Unless you no longer want it?”

“I want to do everything we planned and more. Come on, then. Let’s go inside.”

A
S
THEY
sat and waited for Ian’s turn, a bald-headed man with a chest like a boxer sat down on the other side of Ian and began to read his Kindle. A pretty young girl with a tattoo of a rose going up the side of her neck sat next to Cole. They might have to wait a little longer, which was fine since Ian needed to flip through the tattoo book. He’d outlined an idea, but now he was inside, he wasn’t sure it was right. Two middle-aged women getting butterflies and a lithe, effeminate man getting a dragon were ahead of them already, and Ian wasn’t sure if the others had a standing appointment or were walk-ins.

The door of the tattoo parlor opened, and another guy came in. He had multiple piercings, including those quarter-sized stretched-out ears that were popular. He was dressed in paint-splattered overalls and came in holding hands with a woman in a loose dress and flip-flops.

The tattoo artist emerged from the back room. Her name tag read Krista, and she had a pointy, elfin chin, and wore a sparkly T-shirt with unicorns. Ian hoped he’d get the other artist that had met with him earlier. They’d told him it could be either of them and had asked if that was all right. Ian at the time was so distraught over Cole, he’d barely cared. But at the moment he preferred the jaded one behind the desk, who didn’t resemble a mythical little creature, which Ian found a bit more respectable, but no, the jaded guy took the couple who’d just come in and must have had an appointment ahead of Ian’s.

And Krista looked at Ian and said, “Ready?”

“Um…. Five more minutes?”

She nodded and turned to chat with the two women. Cole leaned closer to Ian. He smiled, a smile so pure and bright, and Ian knew he was lost before Cole even uttered “You can do it, Ian, and I’m here for you.”

Ian blinked. Had anybody in his life really been there for him before? His parents, sure, but more out of obligation than affection, and Sam, sort of, until he found Ian lacking and decided their relationship wasn’t enough, but Cole was different. Cole stuck. Through all the craziness of the last few months, through the misunderstandings, through everything, Cole and Ian were there, together, and Ian felt the last of his resistance to accepting that fact thaw.