Hard to Be Good (Hard Ink #3.5) (9 page)

Finally, Jeremy stretched out beside Charlie and pulled him into his arms. Charlie’s face came to rest on Jeremy’s shoulder, the front of his body pressed fully against the side of Jer’s. The moment was filled with the sweetest affection. Jeremy pulled Charlie’s arm across his chest and then stroked lazily at his skin. He petted his fingers through Charlie’s hair, making Charlie sleepy against his will. And he pressed kisses against Charlie’s forehead over and over and over again.

“Stay here with me tonight?” Jeremy asked.

Twin reactions coursed through Charlie. Soul-deep satisfaction that Jeremy wanted him to stay. And anxiety about what would happen if someone saw them come out together in the morning. Could Charlie handle being outed already? Would anyone care? Would it cause the problems he feared it might?

No Fear.

The problem was, he was fearful. He didn’t want to be. He hated it, in fact. But maybe he could fake it. The least he could do was try.

Charlie nodded and pressed a kiss to Jeremy’s throat. “I’ll stay.” The words set off a fluttering sensation in Charlie’s chest.

“Good,” Jeremy said. “Because I don’t want to let you go.”

Chapter 10

C
HARLI
E COULDN
’
T SLEEP.

Every time Jeremy’s warmth lured him into unconsciousness, he jolted back awake, his eyes going right to the alarm clock next to the bed, his brain caught in a frustrating state of alert caused by Charlie’s worry about what would happen in the morning.

He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to miss even a single moment with Jeremy. He didn’t want to give up this amazing closeness, something he’d never had before. So he stayed despite his exhaustion, despite his inability to relax, despite the adrenaline his stupid brain kept pumping through his system.

When the clock flipped over to 6:00
A.M
., Charlie eased out of bed. He searched in the darkness for his clothes, able to tell the two pair of jeans strewn across the floor apart because Jeremy’s had a cell phone in the pocket. Using the light from the cell to locate his shirt and shoes, he hastily put his clothes back on. He nearly held his breath in an effort to be quiet, and then he tiptoed barefoot across the room, slowly twisted the doorknob, and opened the door just enough to squeeze out.

Charlie nearly walked right into Nick and Becca.

“Shit,” he hissed, so startled that he dropped his shoes and blood pounded behind his ears.

“Sorry,” Becca said with a laugh.

Eyebrow arched, Nick gave him an appraising look.

Heat roared up Charlie’s neck, and he bent to retrieve his sneakers. He was so, so busted.

“So, uh, you’re up early,” he whispered to the couple. His gaze skated to the door to Jeremy’s room, still halfway open.

Nick’s eyes narrowed, but a hint of a smile played around his mouth. “Did you . . . spend the night with Jeremy?”

Becca’s eyes went wide and a slow smile climbed up her face.

The walls closed in on Charlie. His chest went tight and the air became suddenly too thin. Hastily, he leaned to grasp the doorknob and pulled the door closed. “Of course I didn’t spend the night with Jeremy.”

Crossing his arms, Nick smirked. “Then what were you doing?”

Charlie’s thoughts whirled, his gut burning with guilt for lying to his sister and the man who’d saved his life. “I, uh, was going to get a clean shirt from him. I thought he’d be up,” he finally managed.

“And you needed your shoes for that?” Nick asked.

Totally flustered now, Charlie shook his head. “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”

Nick held up his hands as if surrendering. “It doesn’t. No worries. I just thought maybe you two . . .” He shrugged. “ . . . were together.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God
. Charlie felt totally cornered. Not only was he unsure how ready he was for others to know, he and Jeremy had never even talked about whether to go public in the first place. What if Jeremy didn’t want anyone to know?

“No,” Charlie blurted, his stomach burning. “We’re not together.”

“Oh. You’re not?” Becca asked, her tone full of disappointment.

But Charlie couldn’t think about that, couldn’t analyze what it meant, not when he was struggling to breathe. “No. For the last time, we’re not together. Gotta go shower,” he said. He rushed down the hall to the bathroom and shut himself inside.

He didn’t even turn on the light. All he could do was lean against the back of the door, his shoes still clutched to his chest. He wrote strings of code in his mind’s eye until he could breathe again.

What the hell just happened?

You freaked out.
That’s
what the hell just happened
.
Idiot
.

Charlie heaved a deep breath, his lungs finally open enough to work again.

Wow. He hadn’t had a panic attack that bad since the morning thugs from the Church Gang had busted into his motel room, forced a black cloth over his head, tied him up, and thrown him into the back of a van. Of course, it made a lot more sense in that situation than it did just now.

Flipping on the light, Charlie turned and rested his back against the door. Why couldn’t he be normal?

“You know you’re going to make things so much harder for yourself. Living like this,” his father had said in their last argument about the long list of things he found disappointing about Charlie. It was an argument they’d had so many times. From the time Charlie had come out at nineteen to the very last. And at the top of dear old dad’s list of WHY CHARLIE WAS A DISAPPOINTMENT AS A SON AND A HUMAN BEING was Charlie’s sexual orientation.

“If things are harder, they’re harder. But I’m not
choosing
this life, Colonel,” Charlie said, knowing his use of his rank would irritate him. “It’s who I am.”

“You could try—”

“I’m gay!” Charlie threw his arms wide. “There’s no trying anything. This is just who I am. I’m gay. I’m shy. I’m a loner. I’m a computer geek. I’m fucking awkward sometimes—”

“Language, Charlie. Show a little respect,” his father said.

“Oh. Like you show me?”

“Respect is earned.”

“And I can’t earn yours as long as I’m gay, right? Fuck this,” he’d said before he stormed out. His father had chased after him, but Charlie hadn’t looked back.

Fuck this.
Those were the last words he’d ever said to his father. Less than a year later, Becca had shown up at his apartment and delivered the news that their father had died in Afghanistan.

Charlie threw his shoes to the bathroom floor and clutched at his hair.

The man was dead. And Charlie was twenty-six years old. Why the hell did his father still have so much power over him? Charlie wasn’t sure whether to be more pissed at himself or his father’s ghost.

All he knew was that, so far, he was doing a piss-poor job of living up to his tattoo.

His tattoo.

Jeremy.

Shit
.

Even nervous as he was about everyone’s reactions, Charlie felt like hell for denying Jeremy, for saying they weren’t together. Guilt stewed in his gut until he was nauseous.

But he could make that right.

All he had to do was talk to Jeremy. Tell him why he was nervous. And see where Jer stood on the question of coming out to everyone else. For all Charlie knew, maybe Jeremy wanted to keep them quiet for now, too. After all, they were brand new and still figuring things out themselves.

Bending over the sink, Charlie splashed cold water on his face.

Just talk to Jeremy
.

Charlie nodded to his reflection in the mirror.

That would make everything better.

J
EREMY STOOD IN
the darkness and stared at the door for a long time after the conversation faded away. He’d awakened as Charlie attempted to slip out of his room, and gotten out of bed when he’d heard Nick giving the guy the third degree.

Which was how he’d overheard Charlie saying they weren’t together. Twice. Three times, depending on how he looked at it.

After what they’d shared last night—hell, all of yesterday—Charlie wouldn’t even acknowledge them to Nick and Becca? Both of whom obviously knew Charlie was gay and Jeremy was bisexual. Shit, as much time as he and Charlie spent together, Jeremy didn’t think it’d strike anyone as a real surprise.

At first, Charlie’s denial had set off an uncomfortable ache in the center of Jeremy’s chest. Being denied like that sucked.

Charlie was shy, Jeremy was well aware. But it wasn’t like the guy was still in the closet.

But then Jeremy had sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, head in his hands, replaying what he’d heard. And the more times he did so, the worse it felt. Not just like being denied, but like being rejected.

His heart hurt, like it was suddenly and violently empty. And then he realized why.

He was in love with Charlie.

He was in love with Charlie, and Charlie was denying to the closest people in their lives that they were even together.

Fuck.

And here Jeremy had thought
he’d
be the one to have problems coming to terms with choosing to commit to a man. After all, Jeremy was walking on totally new ground not just considering having a relationship with a man, but actually developing the feelings to commit to one. All the way.

And he had. Jeremy was all in.

All in love with Charlie.

Jeremy sat there so long spinning on what he’d heard and what it meant and what to do about it, that it was well after seven o’clock before he got his shit together, cleaned up, and made his way over to the gym.

Which meant he had no opportunity to have a private conversation with Charlie about any of it. And for now, that suited Jeremy just fine.

Because he was hurt, and that was making him pissed. It was probably better to chill his ass out for a while before trying to talk through everything with the man he loved.

When he entered the gym, the first thing he saw was Eileen, lying on her back, legs sticking up everywhere, as she stared at Cy, perched on a high shelf of equipment and glaring down at the puppy. Cy. Jeremy hadn’t even realized he’d settled on a name for their newest resident until just then. Charlie’s name. Of course.

Crossing the gym to the work area in the back corner of the room, Jeremy laid eyes on Charlie for the first time since last night. And just seeing him made Jeremy’s body go haywire.

Red-hot desire spiked his pulse because being inside Charlie last night had been fucking amazing. Soul-deep yearning made his heart pang with want to touch Charlie again, to be with him, to claim him once and for all. And gut-punching hurt wracked through him all over again as his brain unhelpfully replayed the words Jeremy had overheard.

“Hey,” Jeremy said as he approached Marz’s desk. “Sorry I’m late. Overslept.” Hard as it was, Jeremy didn’t look at Charlie. Acting as casual as he could, he rounded the new table of computers and took a seat across from Becca and Nick.

“No worries, hoss,” Marz said in his normal jovial way.

“I’ll just dive back in where I left off last night,” Jeremy said, busying himself with opening the files he needed and pretending to read his notes from the night before.

“Everything okay?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Jeremy said. When he realized Nick was staring at him, he finally looked up. “What?”

For a long moment, Jeremy was sure Nick was going to push the issue. Damn brother could be really annoyingly perceptive when you didn’t want him to be. But Nick just shrugged. “Nothing.”

Jeremy meant to look right back down again, but his gaze betrayed him, straying over toward Charlie.

Charlie was looking at him, and his whole face brightened when they made eye contact, his lips lifting into a small smile.

Well, that’s fucking confusing
.

Jeremy managed a single nod and ducked his chin, though he didn’t miss the hurt flashing through Charlie’s eyes at the lack of any normal greeting. But Jeremy didn’t have it in him to put on a happy face this morning, not when it was possible that he’d fallen in love with a man who wasn’t anywhere close to being there with him.

The whole morning went on like that. Jeremy would be sure Charlie was staring at him, and would look up only for Charlie to quickly look away. Or Jeremy would find himself staring at Charlie, only to pretend that he was absolutely engrossed in what he was reading on his monitor when Charlie noticed.

“Food break?” Marz asked.

Frowning, Jeremy looked at the little digital clock in the bottom corner of his computer screen to find that it was quarter after twelve.

“I’ll throw some sandwiches together, if you like,” Charlie offered. “I can bring everything back over here with some drinks. Or whatever.”

“That would be awesome,” Marz said.

Charlie rose and nailed Jeremy with a stare. “Wanna help?” He held up his bum hand.

Jeremy’s heart tripped into sprint. The conversation he wanted to have with Charlie couldn’t be compressed into the ten minutes it would take to make lunch. Assuming they’d even be alone over at the apartment. But he also didn’t want to be put in the position of pretending nothing was wrong. “Sorry, but I’m almost done with a section of documents and I’d, uh, really like to finish it.”

He felt like an ass making up the excuse, especially as the words seemed to deflate Charlie.

The guy hugged himself. “Oh, sure. Of course.”

“I’m at a good stopping place,” Becca said. “So I’ll help.” She got up, smiled at Charlie, and they left.

Jeremy tried to focus on reading, but found himself rereading the same lines over and over. By the time he got to the end of the briefing document he’d been working on, he had no idea what it said.

He sighed, and Nick and Marz both turned to him.

“What’s going on?” Nick asked just as Marz said, “What’s up with you and Charlie?”

Nick
and
Marz were gonna drill him about this?

Kill me now
. “Nothing,” Jeremy said, training his gaze at the screen. If he made eye contact with either of them, the jig was gonna be up.

A minute passed, maybe two. Jeremy glanced up to find Nick smirking at him.

“Dude,” Nick said. “You’re so full of shit right now.”

“For real,” Marz said. “Tension’s been so thick in here all morning it’s been hard to breathe.”

Ooooor maybe the jig was already up. Jeremy groaned and hung his head backward. He ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Does this have anything to do with Charlie walk-of-shaming it outta your room this morning at oh-dark-hundred?” Nick asked.

“Really? That’s awesome,” Marz said.

Jeremy glared at his brother and watched as Marz’s smile fell.

“Wait. Why’s that bad?” Marz asked.

“It’s not,” Jeremy finally said.

“So . . . are you guys together?” Nick asked, his tone careful, like he knew where the mines lay in this conversation.

Heaving a deep breath, Jeremy shrugged. “
I
thought we were.”

The lightbulb went on behind Nick’s eyes, and the sympathy Jeremy saw there felt like all kinds of shit. “Oh. Oh, hell. You overheard . . .”