A Fallen Heart (21 page)

As they loaded him onto the spine board, the man moved, his arms tight and his wrists bent in at uncomfortable angles, and Nash knew even if the man lived he’d never be the same again.

Good
, he thought.
Score one for karma.

They packaged up the man as quickly as they could and carried him up the back stairs and out the front gate to the ambulance. Loading him quickly, they secured everything, and Adam climbed into the driver’s seat. A moment later they were speeding toward the hospital in an attempt to save the life of a man who should have died at the bottom of his basement stairs.

IT FELT
as though the elevator took ten years to reach the seventh floor. Nash wanted a beer, a shower, and Ford—not necessarily in that order.

The apartment was dark when he got there, and Ford was nowhere to be seen, with no trace that he’d ever been there. Suddenly Nash’s exhaustion tripled, and more than he wanted a shower and a beer, he wanted to sleep.

Trudging to the bedroom, he didn’t bother with the lights, and he sat down on the end of the bed to unlace his boots.

He felt the mattress dip behind him, and he sat up straight as he felt warm arms slide around him and Ford’s mouth press against the side of his neck. Nash leaned into the touch, never more grateful to have Ford in his life than he was in that moment. Nimble fingers slid his uniform buttons free one by one as Ford continued his soft kisses from behind.

Nash closed his eyes and let himself enjoy Ford taking care of him like this.

“Rough day?”

The words were spoken against the curve of Nash’s shoulder, and the sensation of Ford’s warm breath on his skin made him shiver.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice a little shaky.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” Nash turned, and then Ford’s mouth covered his. He kissed him deep, letting the taste of him melt away the stress of the shift until all that was left was warmth and comfort and the heat growing between them.

Ford pushed Nash’s shirt off over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before he unclasped the heavy-duty belt and button that held Nash’s thick pants closed.

In seconds Nash was undressed, and having shed the uniform, the weight of the day fell with it. He felt instantly lighter. He reached for Ford, realizing he’d been naked the whole time. His body was loose and pliant.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Nash said.

“I’m not,” Ford replied before taking Nash by the hand and leading him to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower, the steam rising from the hot water and filling the small space. They were fogged in, and Nash never wanted to leave.

Ford stepped in with him, his hands gliding over Nash’s wet skin as the water beat down on his aching shoulders. Ford’s fingertips caressed the planes and grooves of his body, soothing away the remaining stress and replacing it with a deep, unbroken kind of happiness.

By the time Ford turned off the taps and handed Nash a clean towel, Nash felt like a different person. The blood and the suffering receded into distant, foggy memories. In their place was Ford—the way he felt pressed against Nash, the way his hands felt on Nash’s skin, the way he smelled and tasted and the sounds he made.

It was exactly what Nash had hoped for when he’d asked Ford to be there. He soothed away the ragged edges and made everything infinitely better.

They dried off and looped their towels over the hook behind the door. Back in the bedroom, shadows blanketed everything, but Nash could still see Ford, his pale skin visible in the dim light. He felt as though he’d always see Ford, light or not. He was magnetic.

He crawled onto the bed, and Nash covered Ford’s body with his own.

Ford arched into him, and Nash nuzzled against Ford’s neck. It was slow and sweet, and the tension built gradually. They’d both been soft in the shower, seeking comfort in their closeness rather than the usual erotic slide of slick skin meant to tease and arouse. Ford lay facedown, pinned beneath him, and as it always did, Nash’s desire for him took over.

Nash planted his hands on the mattress and pushed up to kneeling.

“Turn over. I want to see you,” he said, the words thick and low in the darkness.

Ford did as he was asked, flipping over to lie back against the soft duvet. His face showed strength and vulnerability in equal measure, but above all, Nash could see the emotion simmering there, that yet unnamed feeling that filled Nash’s heart too.

“Thank you for being here,” Nash said, staring down into Ford’s eyes. “I really needed you tonight.”

“You’ve got me,” Ford replied.

Nash dipped his head and kissed him, felt the fullness of Ford’s erection at his hip. They kissed for what could have been hours, so wrapped up in each other they didn’t notice the passage of time.

Ford reached up, pushing gently at Nash’s shoulder. Nash understood, slipping an arm beneath Ford to keep them together as he rolled them. Ford bent his knees, bringing them on either side of Nash’s thighs, straddling him. He leaned over and grabbed the lube from the bedside table, then poured some on his fingers. He met Nash’s eyes as he reached behind and slicked himself up.

He rose, sliding his hand along Nash’s cock and guiding it into place before sinking down. Nash was swallowed up by Ford’s body, intense heat, and smooth tightness as he pushed inside. He forced his eyes to stay open, to watch Ford’s face as he adjusted to being filled.

His head fell back and his eyes shut, pleasure written over his whole body, and he began to move. Slowly at first, he rose and fell, like a wave on the sea. The rhythm was slow, languid, and it gave Nash time to appreciate how beautiful Ford was, how good he felt in his arms as Nash pulled him down to bring him closer.

His lips found Nash’s, the gentle tangle of breath right before building anticipation to the kiss. He poured everything he had into it, the dam of emotions breaking as he realized that this was it for him.

Ford
was it for him.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, knew Ford was getting close too. He had memorized the signs now, understood how to read his body. Reaching between them, he wrapped his fist around Ford’s cock, stroking the way he knew Ford liked best. Ford moaned at his touch and held still, Nash seizing control. Feet planted on the bed, he bucked up, sliding into Ford, taking over the rhythm that had stalled out a moment before.

Pleasure broke over them both, pulling them under until Nash felt like he’d drown in it. He came hard, emptying into Ford’s body as Ford shot over his stomach. Heat spread between them, and Nash had a hard time catching his breath, more for the beauty of Ford when he came than the physical exertion of getting him there.

They stilled, Nash inside Ford, come cooling on their skin, breaths evening out. Nash held him close and sat up, slipping free but keeping Ford in his lap, Ford’s legs wrapped around Nash’s back. Nash reached up and cupped Ford’s face with one hand.

“I love you,” Nash said, head tilted up to look into Ford’s eyes.

Ford didn’t say anything. Instead he wrapped his arms tighter around Nash and kissed him hard, and that was enough for Nash.

FORD LAY
there, listening to Nash’s steady breathing next to him. He’d been asleep forever, and Ford had been staring at the ceiling for just as long. The shadows in the room echoed the shadows in his brain, creeping in and coloring everything a daunting shade of gray.

He didn’t know what he was doing there. He’d been awake for what seemed like hours. It probably had been.

Nash loved him. That knowledge should have filled him with warmth and happiness, but all Ford could do was turn those words over and over in his mind until they lost all meaning.

What the actual fuck had he been thinking, getting involved so deep and so fast? In a matter of weeks, his entire life had flipped on its head. He hadn’t seen Sam in almost as long, and every waking moment, Ford’s thoughts seemed to orbit around Nash, like he had his own goddamn gravity field.

His thoughts were muddled and cloudy. His heart had beat faster when Nash said those three beautiful words. Hell, he’d almost let them slip out right back. He
wanted
to say them, but he didn’t know what they meant.

Ford had thought he loved Peter. He’d told Peter so, and once he’d taken some space and gotten some distance between them, he realized Peter had been manipulative and generally an asshole.

The way Ford felt about Nash was completely different, but what he didn’t know was if that made the feelings any more valid. He’d gotten swept up in the physical, in the way Nash made him feel, and emotions had developed in a stressful situation.

Would Ford feel the same way if they’d met on a blind date and gone to a movie together, rather than in a hospital where emotions ran higher than Everest?

Night melted into dawn, which melted into morning, and by the time Nash stirred next to him, Ford’s nerves were tattered. He hadn’t slept.

Nash rolled over, a sleepy smile on his face until his gaze fell on Ford’s expression. Ford knew the moment he realized something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” he asked, absolute concern coloring his voice.

“I don’t know,” Ford said honestly.

Nash sat up, meeting Ford’s eyes, his eyebrows knit together.

Ford sat up as well, dragging the blankets with him to cover himself. It made him feel even more vulnerable to have this conversation while they were both naked. He wished in that moment he’d had the foresight to get up and get dressed before Nash realized there was something wrong.

Hell, maybe slipping out before Nash woke would have been a better plan, but here they were, and Nash was looking at him like he was waiting for the hangman to release the lever that dropped the floor beneath him.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Ford said, feeling like they’d had this conversation before but Nash had talked him out of it… or into it… whatever.

“Don’t think you can do what?”

“A relationship.”

Nash was quiet, and Ford hated that disappointed silence. He opened his mouth and kept talking, if only to fill the space.

“It’s a lot and it happened fast and then you told me last night… I don’t know if I can be that way with someone else. I’ve tried a hundred different ways—casual relationships, serious ones, one-night stands—and nothing sticks. Inevitably I fuck it up and it goes down in flames.”

He paused to catch his breath before continuing. “I told you from the beginning that this was a bad idea. We shouldn’t have gotten involved. It was a mistake.”

“Why is it a mistake?” Nash asked.

“Because this was never supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to love me. You weren’t even supposed to like me. This was supposed to be a friendship, and then it became something more, and I knew then that I should have put the brakes on, but I was vulnerable and emotional and being with you felt so goddamn good, but I’ve fallen back into the same place I was when I was with Peter.”

Nash couldn’t have looked more gutted if Ford had physically punched him in the mouth. Ford watched as his disappointment turned to anger.

“You can’t possibly be comparing me to that fucking asshole. Do you honestly believe that I would ever hurt you like he did? That I would treat you like a possession and something to be discarded when I was done getting off?”

Now it was Ford’s turn to be speechless.

“I didn’t mean—”

“You’ve got things seriously backward. I get that you’re scared. I do. But I don’t even know what to say to you to convince you that this relationship between you and me is worlds different than what happened with you and Peter. I didn’t even know you then, and I don’t know fuck all about him, but I know that he’s a manipulative sociopath who used you and cast you aside. If you think he and I share a single personality trait, then maybe it’s better if you go.”

Ford felt like shit. He really was an asshole, but staying there would only make it worse. His thoughts were in chaos, and he couldn’t make heads or tails of what he wanted to say.

Of course he didn’t think Nash was like Peter. That’s not what he’d meant, but he couldn’t find the words to explain. Instead he climbed out of bed, taking the covers with him, and pulled on his clothes as quickly as he could, trying not to look at Nash, who was still sitting on the bed, glaring. Finally he was fully dressed and feeling marginally less exposed. He turned back to Nash, who hadn’t moved from that spot. The sleep-mussed hair and crinkly white sheets were such a paradox to the look of barely contained rage on his face.

Ford turned and left, walking what seemed like a hundred blocks back to his shitty apartment, with Nash’s face seared into his mind the entire way.

SEVERAL HOURS
later, Ford didn’t think he’d ever felt as shitty as he did at that moment. He was sitting around in his empty apartment, rethinking every moment of the time he’d spent with Nash, fixating particularly over the events of that morning. He’d dissected every word of the exchange in his mind, tearing the conversation apart and trying to reassemble it in a way that made sense.

It didn’t.

He gave up and called Sam, who he knew would be at home. He knew Nash was scheduled to work that night, and so logically, Adam was too.

Sam picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, stranger,” he said, his voice light and teasing. It was everything Ford could do not to cry.

“Hey. You busy tonight?”

“What’s wrong?” Sam demanded immediately.

“I want some company tonight, if you don’t have anything else going on.”

“Of course,” Sam said. “Do you want to go out?”

“Can I come over? I don’t want to be in my apartment right now,” Ford said, looking toward his bedroom, where a pair of Nash’s socks were balled up in the corner, left behind from one of the few times Nash had been there. Who the fuck got emotional over dirty socks? Apparently Ford did, since the sight of them made tears well in his eyes.

“I’m here now. Do you want me to come get you? I can be there in five minutes.”