Even though Cruz and I both knew he wasn't being serious, I couldn't help but conjure up an image of lying next to Sam in his big bed, my arms wrapped around him. He'd fit against me perfectly. Just like we'd been a perfect fit in the shed…
I inwardly cursed as the same restless feeling that had been plaguing me in the week since I'd walked out of that shed returned. It had been my nonstop companion of every minute of every day since I'd turned my back on Sam. Even now, I wanted nothing more than to push past my brother and return to the quiet little house on Maple Street.
The turkey sandwich tasted like sawdust in my mouth, but I forced myself to eat the thing. Cruz made his way to my sleeping bag and knelt down next to it. I didn't need to see his face to feel his disappointment. Cruz wanted me to adapt to civilian life. Maybe he figured it would be proof that I was getting back to being the man he was so sure I’d once been.
"Aren’t you eating?" I asked, more to distract Cruz than anything else. I had absolutely no desire to have a conversation about my mental health with my kid brother. Cruz hadn't actually ever straight out said I was suffering from some kind of mental trauma after what had happened to him, but he'd hinted at it a few times.
"No, I ate already. Elliot and I had dinner before he went to meet with his dad."
My gut clenched at the mention of Sam. "Something going on?" I asked as casually as I could.
Cruz rose to his feet and then returned to where I was standing. He shrugged and said, "Elliot is telling his father he no longer wants to run the family business. El was pretty upset about it." My brother’s concern for his lover was written all over his face.
"Why doesn't he want to run it?" I asked.
"Because he doesn't enjoy it. Sam built the business from the ground up and always talked about Elliot running it when he retired. Elliot didn't want to let him down."
"Sam loves his kids," I said absently. It wasn't until I noticed Cruz look at me strangely that I realized I was making an observation that I shouldn't have had the knowledge to make since I’d supposedly only met Sam briefly the night of the attack on him and his family. "That was pretty clear the night of the shooting," I added as smoothly as I could. "I'm sure he just wants Elliot to be happy."
Cruz paused and held my gaze. I forced myself not to look away because I knew what he was doing. He was trying to read me. He finally nodded and said, "That's what I told Elliot. But he and Sam have always been really close. All they had for a long time was each other."
I didn't miss Cruz’s implication. Elliot and his father weren’t the only ones who’d depended on each other to survive. My thoughts shifted to Sam again. Even though I was certain he would only want what was best for his son, Elliot's decision meant Sam would have choices of his own he'd need to make.
Would he go back to running the business himself or entrust it to someone else? Maybe he’d sell it. I didn't really know anything about Sam's financial situation, but when Cruz had been researching Elliot in an effort to get close to him, he'd mentioned that both men were financially well off. Sam didn't seem to live an extravagant lifestyle, but he could be the type who wouldn’t want to lose control of something he’d created. A strange need to get to him as soon as possible came over me, though I didn't know why. It wasn't like I knew how to be a sounding board for someone. And even if I did, it wasn't like I could just walk back into his life and force him to confide in me.
Even if by some miracle I managed to undo the damage I had undoubtedly caused by walking out without so much as even a goodbye, I wasn't sure that was what I wanted. The goal had been to fuck Sam out of my system. I desperately wanted to believe that had happened, but the fact that I spent every evening hidden in the shadows of the man's backyard just so I could watch him move around the house was proof that he was still under my skin. I didn't even want to think about what that could mean. As I’d watched him these past several nights, I'd told myself to just walk into his house and take him again. And then again.
Anything to end my fascination with the man.