“Marcus,” Jamie breathed, fingers threading into Marcus’s hair. “That’s not how this works. Not how I work. You’ve had me on the fucking edge all summer and I couldn’t even think of letting someone else touch me.”
“You’re mine, Jamie,” he growled.
“I know.”
Marcus was on the verge of yanking Jamie’s jeans down to his ankles when there was a knock on the door of the shop. He stood so fast, dizziness rocked him. And when he saw Joey on the other side of the glass, the disorientation only intensified. “Jesus. It’s my brother.”
A split second before Joey cupped his hands around his eyes and peered into the shop, Jamie dropped down behind the counter. Out of sight.
“J-Jamie, no,” Marcus said, but when he should have pulled Jamie back to his feet and faced the music, telling his brother everything, he only stood frozen in place. “I didn’t know he was coming. I’ll just get rid of him, okay? Hold on. Just wait. Just hold on.”
“Marcus,” Joey called outside the shop, knocking again. “What are you doing? Come let me in.”
“Hold the fuck on,” Marcus shouted back, his pulse spiking, lungs full of cold air. When he looked down at Jamie, his pants had been refastened. Whereas mere minutes ago, Jamie had been smiling at him, laughing, telling him there was no one else, his expression was now shuttered. Distant. “Jamie…”
“Listen, I’ll just go out the back door,” Jamie said, plowing a hand through his hair.
“No. Christ, please don’t do that.”
“What’s my other option?” Jamie asked without looking at him, before taking a visibly calming breath. “Look, I fucking knew what I was signing on for. It’s…fine.”
“It’s not fine. It’s the furthest thing from fine.”
Silence ticked past as they stared at each other. There was another, louder knock on the door. And Marcus watched in horror as Jamie moved in a crouch to the back door and slipped out into the alley running behind the building.
That didn’t just happen. That did not just happen.
With his blood pumping in his ears, Marcus walked in slow motion to the front door and used his key to let Joey in, though his hands were moving without his brain’s consent, because his mind was fully occupied. I should go after him. I should go after him. I just made the man I love sneak out of the shop we built together because I’m a fucking coward.
“Hey man,” Joey said, socking him in the shoulder. “Took you long enough. Did I hear you talking to someone?”
“No,” Marcus answered, his voice hollow. “It’s just me.”
“Come on. I interrupted something dirty, didn’t I?” Joey poked him in the ribs. “I knew this shop would be a freaking chick magnet. You’re not even open yet and you’ve got women crawling all over the place. What is she, a blonde? Redhead?”
“There’s no woman.”
“Come on—”
“I said, there’s no fucking woman, all right?” Marcus shouted, positive his heart was rupturing. All he could see was Jamie slipping out the backdoor into the sunlight. Over and over. “What are you doing? Why did you come here?”
“Easy, man,” Joey said, rearing back, his expression wounded. “You haven’t even shown me the fucking place yet. I just wanted to come see if you needed any help.”
Marcus’s head dropped forward, guilt needling him in the gut. It wasn’t like Joey had hurt Jamie directly. That was on Marcus. “Sorry. Look, I’m…just stressed out.”
Joey’s hand landed on his shoulder in a rough squeeze. “All right. No big deal.” He let go of Marcus and clapped his hands. “The place is even better than I expected. You done good, kid. What can I do?”
Numbness was rapidly spreading to all of Marcus’s limbs, a product of his damaged heart sending his system into shock. A blessing. A curse, because he knew he didn’t deserve to feel anything but pain. Where was Jamie? Was he okay? “I’m done here for the day, man,” Marcus managed. “But thanks anyway. I appreciate you wanting to help.”
Silence passed. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Marcus rasped.
Joey nodded and backed toward the door. The next time Marcus looked up, his brother was gone and several minutes had passed. He took out his phone and called Jamie, a weight dropping in his stomach when there was no answer. Jamie didn’t pick up his next call, either. Or the one after that. Done. Was it over?
On his fourth call, he left a voicemail, though he suspected it was useless.
Hey, it’s me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just wish so fucking much that never happened. Will you still wait at my place tonight, please? After your dinner? I know I don’t deserve you to walk through my door or even listen to this message, but I’m a selfish, horrible prick and I’m going to be a mess until you’re standing in front of me. I’m always going to be a mess until you’re with me. So there it is. Please be safe tonight. Like extra extra safe. Okay? Bye.