Chapter Four

Blaze

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I hated hospitals.

After spending almost six hours in the emergency room with Layla, waiting to be seen by a doctor, I’d been about ready to get up and leave. When we’d finally been called into one of the treatment rooms I’d answered a bunch of questions, had some x-rays, and been told that my ribs were bruised. While the bruise itself was horrific to look at, it was just a bruise and there was no internal bleeding.

I’d accepted the prescription for Oxy and immediately handed the bottle over to Layla the moment we were alone so she could get rid of it for me. There was no way in hell I was testing my sobriety, it didn’t matter how much pain I was in.

The doctor wrapped my ribs and told me to take it easy for the next week. It would be about a month before the bruising was completely gone and I would be fully healed.

Layla had wanted me to come home with her so she could help me out, but with Cody already living in her two bedroom apartment, I didn’t want to be a bother.

I’d driven home and taken a nap. Four hours later Layla had been at my door with three days’ worth of prepared meals for me and the promise to bring more when I ran low.

Then I’d been left to my own devices with nothing to do but watch TV and play on my phone.

Taking a week off work would hit me hard. I made decent money at the bar, and the tips were really good over the weekends, but I didn’t get paid if I didn’t work. I had a little money saved up, but didn’t have that much to spare.

It felt like yet another cosmic fuck you, but considering I wasn’t dead or lying in a hospital bed in a coma, I knew things weren’t as bad as they could be. It sucked and I wouldn’t be forgetting what happened anytime soon, but it was over and I was going to be okay.

* * * * *

“It’s weird seeing you on that side of the bar,” Tristan teased as he poured me another soda.

“What can I say, I missed you.” I made exaggerated kissy faces at him and Tristan laughed.

“What, you didn’t miss me?” Rhys plopped down on the stool next to me and put his chin in his hands, giving me an almost cherubic smile.

“Nope, barely remembered you even work here.” I punched him in the shoulder and Rhys reached over and messed up my hair in retaliation.

“Fucker.” I jerked my head away and vainly tried to smooth the long strands back into place.

I ignored both Tristan and Rhys as they made a few comments about me needing a mirror so I could touch up my makeup as I did my hair. I was used to their ribbing, and I fucking loved it.

Tristan and Rhys were opposites, but they’d bonded almost instantly when Rhys had come to work at the bar six months ago. Tristan was an even six feet with shaggy, sandy brown hair, dark brown eyes and rugged good looks. He was an ex-marine and a gym rat with a six pack to show for it. Rhys was also six feet, but he was your classic All American boy with his styled blond hair, bright blue eyes, classic good looks and football player build.

While Tristan was reserved and quiet, only opening up to people when he was comfortable with them, Rhys was outgoing and could talk to and charm anyone. They were an unlikely duo, but they were as close as brothers.

“Come on now, don’t pick on the injured. That’s like kicking a puppy.”

I rolled my eyes as Zander came over to join in the teasing.

“Suit yourselves, assholes. You’ll get yours.”

“I’m terrified.” Zander grinned.

“You should be.”

I saw Tristan open his mouth to say something but a customer at the other end of the bar caught his attention and he headed over.

“You feeling okay to come back?” Zander asked after Rhys picked up a dish bucket and went to start gathering empty glasses.

“I’m good. Still hurts but I’ll be able to work.” I nodded and drank down some of my soda.

“At the hospital, did they give you anything?”

I knew what he was asking and why, but a part of me instantly went on the defence. I’d been clean for two years, but once a junkie, always a junkie, and people would always look at me as the guy with the problem.

“Layla took it. I haven’t taken anything stronger than ibuprofen.”

“I’m sorry, Blaze. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.” I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I know you care.”

“I do.”

“What?”

I could tell he had something more to say, and the fact that he was hesitating told me it was serious.

“Why did you go to Envy that night?”

I sighed and looked into my drink. “I was looking for a way to deal with something.” I glanced up at him and shook my head. “Not drugs...I just needed a distraction.”

“What happened that day? You were off all night.”

I traced my finger over the top of my glass for a moment. “I found out for sure my family has abandoned me.”

“Blaze?” He leaned closer and put his hand on my arm.

“I called my grandmother for her birthday. I was hoping that maybe my parents had changed their views. It’s been eight years and I thought maybe they’d missed me.”

“What happened when you talked to her?”

“She told me the family would welcome me back, as soon as I repented, went through another spiritual cleansing to rid myself of my ‘affliction’, and never mention anything homosexual again.” I put little air quotes over the last two words to show Zander they were her words and not mine.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s the same song they sung when they kicked me out with only a bag of clothes and seventy-two dollars to live off of. Whatever.”

“I had no idea.”

“I shouldn’t have bothered. I just thought maybe...”

“You could have come to me, to any of us.”

“I know. I thought I could handle it but it just got to me. I hate how they still have power over me like that, you know?”

“I know.” He patted my arm and then cupped my cheek to force me to look at him. “It’s their loss, Blaze. They’re the ones with the problem. Not you.”

“Fuck ‘em all, right?”

“Right.” He grinned and dropped his hand. “Fuck ‘em all.”

* * * * *

“I’ll meet you outside, okay?” I said as I headed toward the door to the bar.

Zander nodded as he put the cash tray back in the register.

Three weeks had passed since my near death stomping, and I was glad to be back in my old routine. My side was mostly healed, although it had been a crazy busy night so I’d overworked the tender muscles and knew I’d be stiff tomorrow.

I’d walked to work since my car was making some less than awesome noises and taking longer and longer to turn over, and had planned on walking home. Zander had offered to drive me instead and I’d gladly accepted so I could go home and get some sleep.

It was a nice night out and I didn’t feel like watching as Zander finished closing up, so I left the bar and leaned against the wall near the door.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Galen.

It was fucked up, but ever since the night he’d helped me, he’d been in my thoughts. I’d never had my body respond so strongly to someone, and I wondered if that was because I’d been hurt and vulnerable, or because of him. It was stupid to wonder. He was straight and had been nothing but a blip on the radar that was my life, but I couldn’t help it.

I could almost feel a current on my skin as I remembered how it felt to have him wrap his strong arm around me and grip my hand in his. Every nerve ending in my body had lit up and I’d been sporting a crazy boner the entire time he’d been near me. My only saving grace had been the fact that my jeans had been tight so he wouldn’t have noticed unless he’d looked closely.

I had a thing for beards, always had, but my preference was short and neat over bushy and big. I loved the feel of stubble on my cheek, and the red marks the friction left behind made me feel marked, like my lover had branded me.

There was nothing sexier than a confident man dressed in a suit, and I loved the fantasy of getting to strip away the prim and proper layers to reveal an animal who would fuck me within an inch of my life, and let me do the same to him.

On paper Galen was my perfect fantasy man, and he was a nice guy to boot. But, he was straight. So why the fuck couldn’t I forget about him?

I didn’t lust after straight dudes, didn’t even have time for the bi-curious. If you liked dick then I didn’t give a fuck if you liked pussy too, but I refused to deal with the drama that came with closet cases or guys who were fighting their desires.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. There was a dull ache in my side so I lifted my arms up before putting my hands behind my head to stretch. I braced one foot on the wall and arched my back, sighing contentedly when several vertebrae popped and the muscles in my side stretched out.

I was about to drop my arms when I heard a siren, and it was fucking close.

Flashing lights suddenly appeared, penetrating my closed lids, and I turned my face from the assault of lights and sounds as a police car came to a screeching stop in front of me.

“Hold it right there, son.”

I froze as two cops climbed out of the car and started walking toward me, their hands hovering over their guns.

I glanced around, desperately hoping there was someone else around that they could be looking at, but I was alone.

“Hands where we can see them.”

I pulled my hands from behind my head but kept them up near my head with my palms out and open.

I fucking hated cops. I’d never had a good experience with one, and I had a feeling this encounter wouldn’t end with me walking away a free man.

“Turn around, hands on the wall and legs apart.”

I bit my lip to stop myself from saying something wildly inappropriate. It wasn’t my first time at the rodeo, I knew the drill.

One of the cops stopped behind me and the other came into my line of sight.

“Do you have anything on your person that can harm us?”

“No.”

“Where is your ID?”

“Back left pocket, in my wallet.”

I felt a hand dig into my pocket as the cop behind me pulled out my wallet. He handed it to his partner and then kicked my legs further apart as he plucked my phone out of my other pocket.

I tensed as he began running his hands over my body, searching me for god knows what.

“Thaddeus Templeton.” The cop smirked when he read my ID.

“Yes, Sir.” I bit my tongue and nodded as the cop behind me took extra time patting down my crotch and ass. I hated my name and wanted to change it, but life always got in the way and I’d never gotten around it.

“Someone had a good night.” The cop opened the billfold of my wallet and counted through my cash. It had been a busy night and I’d made out like a bandit in tips. There was over two hundred dollars in there, all in twenties since Zander had needed smaller bills for the float. I didn’t see what my tips had to do with why I was getting frisked, not until the cop pulled out the two condoms and packs of lube I always kept on me.

“Work supplies?” He smirked as he closed my wallet.

“What? No—”

The next thirty seconds happened in slow motion.

The cop behind me grabbed my wrists and wrenched my arms behind my back. The cop beside me started reading me my rights as I was being cuffed, and at some point Zander came out of the bar. It wasn’t until I saw him heading toward us with rage in his eyes that I snapped out of my daze.

“Zander, don’t!” I shouted, even as the cop with my wallet put his hand on his gun. “Don’t.”

“What the hell are you arresting him for?” Zander ground out as he stopped, his hands balled into fists and his voice shaking.

“Solicitation.”

I closed my eyes as a rush of memories flowed through me, but I pushed them aside. I needed to make sure Zander stayed back and safe.

“Zander, it’s fine. I’m fine.” I called out to him, hoping he’d listen. “It’s okay.”

“Blaze—”

“Ow!”

The cop holding my cuffed hands yanked me toward the car and my side exploded in pain as he dug his elbow into my still tender side to try and move me faster.

“He’s hurt, be careful with him!”

“Zander, please,” I begged, even as I was being dragged to the cruiser. “Please, it’s okay.”

I could see just how much effort it took for Zander to keep quiet and watch me get taken away, but I was glad he let it happen. The last thing he needed was to get tossed in the car with me. I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do, but I’d figure it out. I always did.