The Broken Triangle (20 page)

Neil’s expression changed from perky to droopy when Patrick went over to the door, yanking it open and letting in a cold breeze. “I always break those in a day or two.”

“Me too, but not this one.” Patrick shivered. “Look, I’m freezing, and I’m in the middle of cleaning up this dump, so you should go. If you’re in the bar over Christmas, I’ll buy you a drink, but that’s all you’re getting.”

“For real? Because I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Neil scratched the side of his nose. “Though with the rep you’ve got, what would one more fuck matter?”

Good point. Insulting but valid. And Patrick hated that he was seen that way. “It just would, okay? It would matter to me.”

Neil shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was probably hoping if he hung around long enough, Patrick would change his mind. “You need to get off; I need to get off. I get what you’re saying, I do, but since we’re both hard and we’re both here, this could be your last hurrah. Something to remember when you’re middle-aged and celibate.”

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought? Neil was hitting the nail on the head over and over, building a cage around Patrick, keeping him from moving forward. But when it came down to it, the thought of being trapped in his old life was even scarier than the picture Neil painted.

“It’s not about being celibate. It’s about waiting until I find someone I care about. And who cares about me.” That made sense, calming his jangled nerves, though it was still weird to be working it out with this guy he barely knew standing right there.

“I could be someone you care about,” Neil said, then ruined it by adding, “For the next ten minutes, at least.”

“A whole ten? Wow.” Patrick gestured at the doorway. “No. Sorry. Thanks, but no, thanks. See you around.”

“Fine. But if you’re gonna wait for true love, you’re gonna be waiting a long time.”

Neil swept out the door, and Patrick pushed it shut with a lot more force than necessary, taking a strange satisfaction in the loud slam.

He’d turned down sex with a hot guy in favor of cleaning out the fridge and scrubbing the sink. That wasn’t normal.

No
, he corrected himself.
I turned down sex with someone who thinks I’m easy and took me for granted, and I did it because I’m in love.

None of which would get the sticky brown spill off the shelf of the fridge or make the faucets sparkle, let alone console his disappointed dick, but it made him feel better.

Vin had gone without sex for years. Patrick hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but until he knew for certain he had zero chance with Vin, well, Vin was the only one with the key to his pants.

Apart from himself. Jerking off didn’t count. Even Vin had done that.

Thinking about jerking off made him want to—he was still half-hard—but instead he dragged the trash barrel and a chair over to the fridge, opened the door, and sat down. Time to dump all the once-food, now-science-experiments that were tucked into the backs of all the fridge shelves.

Time for a fresh start and a new life.

“If they’re not sparkling, they shouldn’t be there,” Shane said from over Patrick’s shoulder.

He inhaled slowly and reached for the glass he’d taken out of the dishwasher and put on the shelf. “Looks okay to me.”

“Then you might want to think about getting your eyes checked,” Shane grumbled, taking it from him and holding it up between Patrick and the light. “There, see?”

Patrick tried to be a good employee, but he looked closely, and all he could see was a clean glass. “It still looks okay to me.”

Shane sighed in frustration and reached for a dish towel. “Then you might also want to think about getting a new job.”

Something inside Patrick twisted painfully tight, and he found himself on the verge of tears. “Okay, fine. If you want to fire me, and I know you’ve been dying to since last week, just do it, okay? I can’t take this anymore. I’m really trying; I’m just a loser. You’d all be better off without me.”

“You said it, not me.”

Shane put the glass back, looking no different than it had before, humming under his breath as if losing loyal employees happened every day. It was too much. Patrick grabbed the towel from Shane’s hand and flailed at him with it, getting in a few good hits before Shane snatched it away, looking startled rather than annoyed.

“What the hell?”

“I hate you! You’re a fucking asshole, and you treat me like shit, and it’s not fair when I’m trying so hard to be different.”

“Well, now.” Shane sucked air through his teeth, studying Patrick thoughtfully. “Someone’s got her knickers in a twist today.”

Patrick made an inarticulate sound deep in his throat, so much wrong with Shane’s statement that he didn’t know where to start. “I am not a fucking girl!”

Shane held up his hands in what might have passed for an apology if the glint of amusement in his eyes weren’t so obvious. “Sorry. The hissy fit and foot stamping confused me.”

“Say that in front of Shelly!”

“Unlike you, I’m not feeling suicidal.” Shane tilted his head. “Want to land one on me? Give me a black eye, bloody nose? Come on. Take your best shot. Let it all out, princess.”

Patrick’s fist flew out before he could process Shane’s sincerity or the possible repercussions, driven by the force of his need to prove himself. It was stupid, it was playing right into Shane’s manipulative hands, and he didn’t care, because it would hurt Shane, and no one deserved it more.

Shane dodged Patrick’s punch with a casual shift of his body, swaying to the side so the blow missed him by an inch or two. “Okay, you’ve convinced me you’re serious. We’ve got twenty minutes before we open so—”

Patrick swung at him again, Shane’s words barely registering through the buzz in his ears. He needed to do this, or Shane would keep calling him names, keep laughing at him.

Shane, frowning now, captured Patrick’s hand in his, squeezing it hard enough to draw an anguished yelp. Patrick had seen Shane lift full crates and toss out unruly customers without breaking a sweat, so it shouldn’t have been such a shock to discover how strong Shane’s hands were.

“You only get one shot, mate, but if we danced all night, you still wouldn’t hit me, so let’s call it quits and get a bloody drink. Sit down.”

Patrick’s anger fled as quickly as it had come, leaving hopelessness in its wake. If Shane had told him to leave, not sit, he would have gone without a word. Instead, he nodded and went around the bar to sit on a stool while Shane got them each a drink.

“I’m sorry,” he said when Shane joined him.

“You should be.” Shane drank from his pint glass and slid the glass he’d gotten for Patrick an inch closer across the surface of the bar. “Drink. Then tell me what’s been going on.”

“What would be the point?” Patrick sighed gustily. Rock bottom. That was where he was. It was dark and depressing, and he didn’t like it at all.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” Shane said. He rested his glass on his knee and looked at Patrick until Patrick picked up his pint and sipped from it. “Something’s wrong. You’ll feel better when you’ve told someone what it is. Despite appearances, I do care that you’re all right, so come on, then.”

Christ. Well, if he was going to spill his guts, he ought to have some alcohol in his system first. He gulped half his glass, wiped his mouth, and said, “My life’s a mess.”

“That’s nothing new.”

“Okay, I’ve
realized
that my life’s a mess.”

“Well, that’s a start, then. Can’t fix it if you don’t know it’s broken.” Shane was sitting close enough that with anyone else, Patrick—the old Patrick—would’ve assumed it was an invitation to touch. He didn’t make that mistake with Shane. Even before Ben had come on the scene, he’d never gotten any sense that Shane was attracted to him.

Which was probably why they hadn’t gotten along. Patrick liked being wanted. He’d told himself he wasn’t Shane’s type and felt satisfied when the arrival of Ben and Shane’s subsequent complete capitulation had confirmed that theory. The problem was that he and Shane both went for the same kind of guy—strong, forceful, controlling. The men Patrick fucked were usually playing at it. Ben wasn’t. And when Patrick thought about it, Vin was nothing like that, and he was the one Patrick had fallen in love with.

Even when it came to mindless sex, he’d been doing it wrong.

“I take it you do want to fix it?” Shane asked, the tone of his voice hinting the answer had better be in the affirmative.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Why?”

Patrick took a sip of beer. Shane was so direct. “Why not?” he hedged. “You said yourself, it needs it.”

“Your arse has needed a boot up it for years,” Shane said. “Just wasn’t room for it most nights.” He scratched his chin. “How many times a week do you get laid anyway? Doesn’t it get boring?”

Patrick drew in a breath to answer, not with numbers but an assurance that no, it didn’t, because he did it right, but Shane waved him silent.

“No, scratch that. None of my beeswax. Tell me what’s made you come to your senses all of a sudden and why it isn’t making you any happier. Because it’s not like you to take a swing at someone.” His eyes widened. “Shit, you tested positive, didn’t you?”

Shane slammed his pint down on the bar and leaned in, his hands warm and heavy on Patrick’s shoulders, his face twisted with a concern so real Patrick could only blink at him. “Should’ve seen it coming. Listen, whatever they told you, don’t worry, okay? We’ve got your back, and anything you need—”

“I didn’t test positive! Safe sex! Always! How stupid do you think I am?”

It took half a minute for Shane to get himself under control. He leaned back, wiped his mouth, picked up his glass, and drank again. “Okay. Good. And for the record, I don’t think you’re stupid. Not living up to your potential, maybe.”

Patrick hadn’t realized until he exhaled that he’d been holding his breath. “That’d require having potential, don’t you think?” Which, of course, was just proving he was stupid, since what he wanted Shane to do was assure him he had a ton of potential, and the chances of that were slim to none.

“You do, if you’d stop arsing around and spending more time worrying about getting laid than what you’re being paid to do.” Shane held up a hand when Patrick opened his mouth to protest. “I know, I know, things will be different from now on, but that only goes as far as you take it. If I didn’t believe you had it in you, I would have sacked you the other night and not lost a wink of sleep. The question is, are you going to make the effort? Because it’s not as simple as deciding. You have to actually do the work.”

“I am! I will.” Patrick scratched the back of his neck, thinking. “I might not be looking forward to it, but I’m serious. This isn’t just a whim.”

“Good.” Shane finished his pint and gestured at Patrick’s. “Drink up, lad.” He waited until Patrick’s mouth was full before adding, “Still haven’t told me why you’re doing this. Is it because I scared the shit out of you?”

Patrick swallowed with an effort. To tell or not to tell? “You’re not that scary.” Shane arched his eyebrows, clearly disagreeing, and Patrick sighed. “Okay, maybe you’re intimidating, but I kind of get off on— No, I didn’t say that!”

“Yeah, you did, but you didn’t mean it,” Shane said calmly. “That might float my boat, but it doesn’t do it for you.”

Hearing Shane flat out admit something Patrick had always considered a secret—not a dirty one, no, but still, not something Shane and Ben wanted the world to know—made his decision easier. If Shane trusted him with that knowledge, it meant more than Shane’s instinctive impulse to comfort Patrick.

“I’m in love,” he said and braced himself for a hoot of scornful laughter.

It didn’t come. Shane drummed his fingers on the bar, a pained look on his face, but he didn’t look amused. “I was hoping it wasn’t that.”

“Why?”

Shane slid off the bar stool and cupped Patrick’s face in his hand for a moment, the gentle touch as shocking as a blow. “Because I know who he is—you don’t have much of a poker face—and I don’t think you stand a chance. Sorry.”

“Shit.” Of all the responses Patrick had imagined, Shane knowing hadn’t been one of them. “Does everyone else know?”

“Why would you think I’d have a clue what everyone else knows? Ben would have a better idea. Want me to ask him?”

Patrick made a face. “No. Um, yes? I don’t know.”

“He’s a hell of a lot better at sorting out these things than I am,” Shane said. “And you can trust him not to spill the beans. Come on.” He started toward the office, and Patrick got up and followed him.

Ben looked up from his laptop when they walked in, his ready smile for Shane fading when he saw Patrick. It was another push to behave seeing how one look at him could put that worried tenseness on Ben’s face.

“Relax. He’s not in any bother,” Shane said before Ben could speak, reaching back to usher Patrick in, an arm around his shoulder. “Well, not the kind we care about.”

“Good to know.” Ben turned away from his laptop to face them. With anyone else, Patrick would’ve sneaked a peek at the screen, assuming it was porn, but this was Ben, and it was bound to be accounts or time sheets or something equally boring. “So what can I do for you?”

“We open soon, so I’ll make it quick,” Shane said. “If I were to ask you who lover boy here was pining for, would a name come to mind?”

“Uh…” Ben cleared his throat. “Is this a trick question? One you want me to answer a certain way? Give me a clue here.”

“For the love of God, just tell me!”

Ben’s lips tightened, but Shane stood firm. Whatever games the two of them played in bed didn’t mean Ben called the shots out of it.

“Just give him an honest answer,” Shane said.

“Don’t have a clue,” Ben said flatly. “And unless it’s either of us, which would be awkward as hell—”

“It’s not!” Patrick didn’t elaborate on why that was as likely to happen as him developing a gag reflex. They might not want him to have a crush on them, but no one wanted to hear they weren’t even on someone’s radar.

“There. Feel better?” Shane asked.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Please tell me one of you is in the mood to share,” Ben said. “Otherwise I’m left sitting here feeling stupid.”