Chapter Twelve
Taine
The last time Taine had slept on a couch had been in the early days of his career. His body had aged significantly since those youthful days of power and flexibility. He’d be aching for a week at this point from a single night on a sofa that had definitely been far too small for his long and muscled self.
What choice did I have?
Once Taine had gotten Freddie settled into bed the night before, he’d been faced with a difficult decision. He couldn’t leave and lock the door without taking the keys with him. The young nurse certainly wasn’t awake or aware enough to voice an opinion on the matter.
A call from Remi at eight in the morning solved his dilemma. The group of men who had decided to stay for a few more days at the inn had decided to come visit him. Shite. He’d left Cornwall to allow things to calm down; now the chaos had driven out to see him.
Taine had them bring him coffee and something for Freddie to eat. He set it beside the bed along with a note. The others dragged him away to take the mickey and have breakfast together. The latter was fine; the former would require a great deal of coffee.
Despite his protests, Caddock bullied him into his packed Range Rover. Five former rugby blokes squashed into the SUV looked more like a ton of clowns piling into a tiny car. Elbows were accidentally thrown several times before they managed to get situated.
Though the joking around had been mostly lighthearted, a faintly harder edge started to fill the room. Taine exchanged a worried glance with Remi on the return trip to Freddie’s flat, where his Bentley was still parked. They both worried about more than half-hearted elbows being thrown about until they all stomped up the stairs together, slightly rowdy and definitely obnoxious, only to find someone already in front of the young nurse’s door.
Good news? I no longer want to slam my fist into Scottie’s face.
Bad news? All five of us are likely to get arrested for assault.
Two teenage punks stood outside Freddie’s flat with aerosol cans of paint in their hands. Taine didn’t need to look to his left and right to know he wasn’t the only one seething with rage. His arms shook with the effort it took not to immediately pummel the idiots into a mess not even their mums would recognise.
“What. The. Bloody. Hell. Are. You. Doing?” Caddock thankfully stepped out from the group. He was the one most likely to maintain his temper. “I’m waiting for an answer, lads.”
“You’re…. You’re…. Are you Caddock Stanford? The Brute?” One punk’s eyes bugged out when he recognised the towering mound of muscles in front of him. His gaze drifted towards the other men crowded by the door. “Holy shite. Look—it’s the Frenchie, and BC Brooks, and Tens, and Scottie. What’re you doing here?”
Taine stepped up beside his old friend with his arms folded across his chest. He kept them there mostly to ensure he wouldn’t give in to the urge to throw a punch—or twenty. “A better question is what you knobdobbers are doing outside Freddie’s.”
“You know the—”
Taine moved forward, cutting off what would’ve most certainly been a derogatory word guaranteed to set the lot of them off. He grabbed both idiots by the fronts of their shirts, lifting them off their feet. “Those heroes of yours behind me? BC and the Brute? They’re both in relationships with men, who they love with all their hearts. I’ve dated men and women.”
“What?”
Taine shook them hard to shut them up and released them. “I see you around here again. I hear you’ve been harassing Freddie. I’ll ensure your face is suitably rearranged before reporting you to the authorities. Got it? Now fuck off.”
They didn’t move until Scottie aimed a well-placed kick at their arses. The usually highly vocal man had been oddly silent throughout the brief ordeal. His eyes kept drifting to the partially painted words on the otherwise cheerfully painted blue door.
Maybe he can learn.
“Why do people do shit like this?” Scottie walked over to the edge of the stairwell to ensure the two perpetrators had taken off. “I’m frequently an arsehole, but I’d never do shit like this.”
“Well, that’s progress, considering you’re gay.” BC’s completely unhelpful comment was met with a glare from Scottie and groans from the others. “What? Am I wrong?”
“No, but yes.” Taine swatted him on the back of the head.
“My first wet dream started just like this.” Freddie spoke from the now open door. They’d been too focused on the gay-bashing vandals to notice. He glanced over to the fresh paint. “Coc y gath. Did you spot them?”
“We handled it,” Scottie interjected before anyone else could jump into the conversation—surprising all of them. “Caddock and I are going to buy paint.”
“We are?” Caddock stumbled when Scottie grabbed the sleeve of his shirt to drag him towards the stairs. “We apparently are going to buy paint.”
Freddie blinked in obvious bewilderment at the retreating backs of the two men. “Did Scottie have a lobotomy? Or a personality transplant since I last saw him?”
“He’s a troubled soul.” Taine didn’t want to get into Scottie’s struggles, so he ignored the snickers from BC. In all honesty, he’d been proud to watch the changes slowly happening in their friend’s life. “Did you enjoy your coffee?”
Freddie’s eyes flicked from the painted words on his door over to Taine. “Yes? Maybe. Yes.”
“Wait a second. Your first wet dream involved us?” Scottie had stopped halfway down the stairs and yelled up to them.
Taine covered his face with his hands. “One step forward, two steps back.”