Chapter Five
It was a night of painful tossing and turning. Every time he moved, some hurt exploded to life, pulling a groan or muffled curse. He hoped he wasn’t keeping Sam awake. If ever someone needed his sleep, it was a cop in an elite tactical unit.
It was just after five am when he heard Sam moving around. A few minutes later there was a quiet knock on his door and Sam stuck his head in.
“I thought you were up. Do you need anything?”
Despite the early hour, Sam was wide-awake and distractingly handsome.
Drew managed an incoherent mumble and Sam frowned, stepping inside.
“Drew?”
“I’m okay,” he said, pushing himself up with a groan, imagining how he must have looked to Sam.
“Did you get any sleep?”
He shrugged, regretting the movement a moment later. “Not much.”
With Sam’s help, he got up and to the bathroom before settling on the couch while Sam moved around the kitchen.
“How do you like your eggs?” Sam called over his shoulder and a little while later, he passed him a plate of scrambled egg and toast.
Drew didn’t have much of an appetite at first but when Sam sat down opposite him, eating his own breakfast, it spurred him to try his. Once he started, he found he was hungry after all.
“An appetite’s a good sign,” Sam commented. “I have to head to work. I’ll be back tonight. Matt will swing by around lunch time.”
Sam cleared away their plates, returning with a glass of water and a box of pills.
“They’re just Tylenol. Take two, they’ll make the day a little more bearable.”
Sam’s tone brooked no refusal, so he swallowed two with a mouthful of water, letting Sam take the glass from him after.
“Okay,” Sam said, as he shrugged on his jacket. “You have my number and Matt’s number. If you need something, call. I’ll call and check on you during the day.”
“I will. Thanks, Sam.”
The intensity with which Sam was watching him was a little uncomfortable, but it was nice to have someone care for him and not expect anything in return, anything obvious anyway.
Sam departed, leaving him with little to ruminate on except his woeful circumstances. He turned his mind away from that, thinking about Sam instead. Leave it to Logan to have such attractive friends. Not just in how Sam and Matt looked, but how they held themselves, how they acted; with a confidence Drew didn’t think he’d ever possess. He knew confidence was an attractive quality, it was part of what had drawn him to Russell in the first place. Confidence, power, and charm. And before Drew had even realized it, he’d been in over his head. And now, irony of ironies, he was hiding in the home of a cop.
“Sam? Sam.” Glancing up from the report he was writing, he found Gary standing over him. “I’ve been calling your name for a full minute. Where’s your head at?”
“Sorry, just… paperwork,” he said, waving a hand at the sheets spread out before him.
“Nothing more mind-numbing,” Gary agreed. “Warren's having us all over to watch the game this evening. You’re coming, right?” Warren was standing by the door, giving him a thumbs-up.
“I’d like to guys, really. I just have some stuff to take care of.” Warren’s face fell. Gary managed to couch his reaction a little better. “That’s cool. Sure you can’t make it though? Tom’s got some of that really nice beer from his brother’s bar.”
“I’d love to, it’s just, there’s a lot going on.” It was the wrong thing to say, but all Gary did was nod his head. “Sure, maybe we’ll catch you next time.”
He knew his words would come back to haunt him though, and they did just an hour later as he was getting changed to go home. The others were already gone, and he thought he was the last one left. Until Thomas sat down next to him.
“Anything you need to talk about?”
“No, sir,” he answered.
“Only you’ve been distracted recently. And you’ve missed three team nights out in a row. Tonight will make a fourth.”
“I know. It’s not that I don’t want to be there.” Which was true, he liked spending time with the team. He hadn’t at first, when he was very green and Thomas was giving him a hard time most hours of the day. But he’d shown them he was able for the challenges, able to work with them, and now they reminded him of his army unit. Brothers of another sort.
“It’s just you have a lot going on,” Tom added, and Sam mentally cursed Gary.
“Yeah,” he said lamely.
“Something you should maybe talk about?”
For a moment, he considered how nice it would be to pour his worries out, about Matt and his downward spiral and the struggle to keep him afloat. Or even about Drew and the things that just weren’t adding up. But he didn’t want to put his problems onto someone else’s shoulders.
“It’s nothing serious. I took in a roommate last week. He’s the younger brother of an old army mate of mine. Ran into some trouble, needed help, and has been a bit of a handful.” He felt bad for laying it all on Drew’s doorstep, especially since the other man hadn’t been any problem until the previous evening.
“Babysitting duty, huh?”
“I don’t know if you can technically call it babysitting when they’re twenty-four.”
Tom clapped him on the shoulder. “That just makes it harder, because they’re legally adults even when they act like two-year-olds.”
He stood. “If you need any help, Sam. You know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Tom. I’m sure it’ll sort itself out.” Even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t true. If Matt was going to sort himself out, he’d have done it already. And Drew, well, he didn’t even know where to start.
He stopped by an off-license on his way home and picked up a six-pack. This wasn’t necessarily a good plan, but it was a plan and he had the next day off. Matt had called him after checking on Drew, the medic seeming happy that his initial assessment had proved true.
“Couldn’t get anything out of him about what’s going on though. I didn’t want to press too hard. Something has him spooked.”
Drew was on the couch when he got back, but washed and dressed and sitting up reading one of Sam’s magazines.
“You like bikes?” Drew asked him, holding up the glossy cover with a picture of a Ducati motorcycle on the front.
“They’re a good way to travel.”
“What do you ride?” It was only when he asked that Sam realized Drew had never seen him on his bike, which was down in the parking garage.
“A Ninja 650.”
He could see from the expression on Drew’s face that that meant nothing to him.
“Does it live up to its name?” he asked.
“It doesn’t Kung Fu fight if that’s what you’re asking.”
Drew watched him, one eyebrow raised. “Did you just mash the two great ancient cultures of China and Japan together for the sake of a bad joke?”
“As long as we avoid unnecessary puns, where’s the harm,” he joked back, putting the beer in the fridge to chill. “Do you watch football?”
Drew seemed a little thrown by the change in direction. “Sometimes. I’m not a die-hard fan but I enjoy watching a good game.”
“Great, kick-off’s in thirty. I’m going to shower.”
“I could make some food. Stir-fry or something,” Drew offered tentatively.
“Matt would have my head. Stay there, I’ll cook when I’m clean.”
Drew sat back down, looking mildly irritated at being told what to do. Sam ignored it. He didn’t need Drew on his feet trying to cook him dinner. His face was a patchwork quilt of pale skin and purple bruising, and Sam could see from the way he was hunched over in the chair that his injuries hadn’t miraculously healed.
When he came back out, toweling his hair dry, Drew was on the couch where he’d left him, but all the ingredients for a stir-fry were set out on the counter, the wok on the stove next to them.
Drew met his stare head-on with a hint of defiance. It lasted only a moment, before the other man dropped his gaze, a blush suffusing his cheeks.
“I just wanted to help,” he admitted with a shrug. “So you don’t miss the game.”
“I can watch and cook at the same time,” Sam pointed out, given the kitchen and living room spaces were adjoined. They didn’t say any more about it while he cooked their meal, browning the chicken before adding the veg.
They sat side by side as they ate, watching the game on the tv. It wasn’t a great match, one team easily surpassing the other from the get-go. Halfway through their meal, he brought out the beer, handing one to Drew while taking one himself. He sipped his slowly, watching as Drew went through his at a much faster pace. Once he’d finished his meal, Sam took both cans back to the kitchen, switched Drew's out for a fresh one and carried his own half-full one back under the guise of a refill.
Drew didn’t notice, accepting the offered beer with a muttered thanks. Midway through he paused, looking from the beer to Sam, and Sam wondered if he’d cottoned on.
“I don’t drink much. Two is probably my limit.”
“Sure. I’m not a big drinker myself,” he agreed.
Drew finished the beer, settling the empty can down next to him.
“Is it just me, or is this game ridiculously boring?”
“It’s not you. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel. No effort needed.”
“Maybe the losers were bribed. It could be a fix,” Drew suggested.
“If it was, I actually think they’d play better. Or at least, give the appearance they were trying.”
“You’re probably right.” Drew sat back, sighing. “I think beer might trump pain relief. I feel a lot better.”
“Yes and no. It dulls your senses and helps you relax. Takes the pressure off mind and body.”
“Yeah, but two more and I’m a binge drinker. Guess that’s why they don’t recommend it at the doctor’s office.”
“I guess so.”
Drew did seem more relaxed. Not just how he held himself, but his tongue too.
“What happened to Matt?”
That question came out of left field and Sam, momentarily taken aback, flapped around for something to say. “What… what do you mean?”
“He’s not what I was expecting. There was something about him. Like he’s in pain or hurt.” Broken was the word that came to the forefront of Sam’s mind but he pushed it firmly away.
He grasped for a way to explain it, finally settling on familiar words.
“Sometimes, the army takes you in, makes you a man, and lets you back out into the world. Sometimes it takes you in, breaks you down, and spits you back out in pieces. Matt was the latter. Saw some bad shit go down and he’s still working through it.”
“You were Matt’s friend before you were Logan’s, right?”
They’d lost interest in the game but this was what Sam had wanted, to get Drew talking. Establish a connection. It was what they always drilled into them in work. If you could connect with a person, you stood a better chance of helping them, of saving them from themselves.
“I met Matt back in basic. He introduced me to Logan and later we wound up shipping out together. That kind of closeness creates bonds.”
“You know my brother better than I do,” Drew said softly.
“I didn’t grow up with him, we don’t share blood. That’s a different kind of bond. So what about you?”
Drew seemed amused at the question. “What about me?”
“You were living back east, right?”
“Right. Columbus, Atlanta. I moved around for a bit, then settled for a while before I came here.”
It didn’t escape Sam’s notice that Drew didn’t tell him where he’d moved from. He didn’t tackle it. As soon as he got Drew on the defensive, he’d have lost any advantage.
“What kind of work were you doing?”
“Different stuff. Waiting tables, bar work, shelf stocking. Worked in a reptile shop for a while. I can still hear the crickets that we’d feed to the lizards and snakes.”
“How’d you wind up working there?”
“My boyfriend was the owner, really passionate about it—”
Drew seemed to realize what he’d said about a second after he’d spoken. What little color that was in his face drained as he turned to Sam. “I didn’t—What I said—” After two false starts, the other man blurted out, “Don’t tell Logan. Please. It would—we barely have a connection as it is, I don’t want to lose that.”
“Whoa.” Sam held up one hand, trying to forestall the deluge of panic emanating from Drew. “Let’s go back a few steps, okay? I don’t get what the problem is.”
He didn’t. Not in the slightest. If Drew was gay, so what?
“Logan, and my dad, they’re not very… accepting… of people being different. He doesn’t know and I don’t want the kind of trouble that would come with him finding out, for either of us.”
“You think Logan would have a problem with you being gay?”
Drew nodded, still pale, his eyes holding that panicked look that Sam did not like, not at all.
“Like I said. My family aren’t tolerant. I couldn’t bear to have them look at me that way.”
“What way?” Sam still couldn’t believe that Drew was having such a strong reaction to even the idea of Logan knowing something so fundamental about him.
“Like I disgust them.”
Sam rocked back in his seat, reaching for his half-empty beer, and taking a long swallow while he thought about what to say.
“What you tell your family, what you tell your brother, is your business and no one else’s. But I’m surprised you think he’d have such a bad reaction. He’s never had a problem with me. Nor Matt for that matter.”