The ripple in Liam’s chest was softer this time, more like a laugh.

  “So here it is. Yes. I’m in. I want to try and make it work, whatever that means.” Scott swallowed. “For however long that is. It doesn’t mean I’m not going to wonder if today’s the day I wake up to you gone. But—” He sucked in a quick breath. “—I love you. And my life doesn’t suck as much when you’re in it, so if—”

  Liam’s chest lifted their hands in a deep breath. And another. Scott flopped his head onto the pillow. The ratfucker had fallen asleep on him.

  LIAM WAS back in the jeep with Ross. Except sometimes when he looked over it was Scott. No, it was Ross saying, “Not gonna happen, Lawman.” Had to be Ross. Scott couldn’t know the unit had turned his initials into a nickname.

  So it was Ross, and the jeep was accelerating past the telephone poles farther from the base against the hot, dry spring wind, and though he’d swear he was right there in the jeep with Ross again, part of him kept insisting that this time he could change the outcome because he knew what happened next.

  “How is being locked up better?” Liam said, but no, he’d already said that.

  “I warned you,” Ross said.

  “I knew it,” Scott said.

  “Think you’ve got all the answers,” Scott/Ross said.

  The jeep started to slide. “Sorry, Lawman. I can’t go back.” Ross’s calm expression was worse than the crazy one.

  Liam screamed but no sound came out. Or maybe it did and no one could hear it over the screech and grind of metal. Time froze, let him catalog every dizzying lurch in his guts as the jeep rolled; then Liam was airborne, free of the chaos for just an instant. Black, red, dust, smoke, fire, and pain made an endless loop in his head. This time it wasn’t Ross crawling toward him, crawling from the fire like the Terminator. It was Scott. Scott calling his name. Scott needed him and Liam’s body wouldn’t work and he couldn’t get there.

  “Liam. Hey. Wake up.”

  He was pinned down. Maybe this time they’d have to cut off his arm. How could he play guitar with one arm? That was how Ross would punish him.

  “Liam.”

  He fought to get free, kicked and shoved at what held him down.

  “Damn it. Liam!”

  Liam woke up with a jolt.

  Scott was there. Not on fire. Scott held Liam’s shoulders and shook him hard, lifting him up and dropping him onto the mattress.

  He wasn’t back in Texas. The weight on him was Scott.

  Scott’s eyes glittered as he peered down. “You with me now?” There was enough light to see the pinch of worry in his brows and the lines around his nose.

  “Yeah.” Liam took a deep breath. He was sweaty as hell and wasn’t sure he wouldn’t puke, but mostly he was relieved. Fucking dream. He didn’t actually remember anything between when they started to roll and when he woke up in the hospital. But he’d heard enough that his imagination took over.

  He thumbed the scar on Scott’s eyebrow, a touch to let them both know Liam was really here, but Scott pulled back farther.

  Liam squinted. “Is your mouth bleeding?”

  Scott shrugged, then let go of Liam’s shoulders. “You punched me.” Scott ran his tongue over his lips. “Guess you got me good. So we’re even on sucker punches.”

  “Goddamn it. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m fine.” Scott slid off Liam’s hips and settled on one side. “How are you?”

  “Okay. Usually leaves me more nauseous. But,” he added before Scott decided Liam was a total basket case, “I haven’t had a dream like that in a long time.” Sweat glued him to the sheet.

  One side of Scott’s mouth quirked up. “Guess I just bring out the best in you, huh?”

  Was Scott really going to use a fucking bad dream as a reason why things couldn’t work?

  Feral didn’t even begin to cover it. Scott was even more skittish than he’d been when Liam had met him. Not that Liam could blame him.

  He forced himself to sit up and get his foot on the floor. He needed to piss and get this fear-sweat stink off him. But when he thought about everything that would mean—strapping into his leg, hoping the rim of the tub wasn’t too high for him to navigate, then taking the leg back off once he’d made it into the tub—it was too fucking much. But he really had to piss.

  “Shit.”

  The sheets whispered as Scott shifted. “What?”

  “I didn’t bother to bring a crutch.”

  The air-conditioning made him shiver. Behind him, Scott hmmed. Like he always did. Like he knew Liam would cave. Spill out what he hated to admit.

  “And I could put my leg on but it takes time, and it’s a pain in the ass when I really gotta pee.”

  “Gotcha.” Scott scrambled across the bed and slid off to stand next to Liam. “Not saying I wanna carry you, but I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to be a crutch if you tell me.”

  Liam replayed that in his head, but it still sounded the same, as matter-of-fact as when Scott had explained why he’d brought in the distributor cap. Problem and solution. No hidden disgust or frustration at Liam’s helplessness.

  “Okay.” He used Scott’s forearm to steady himself as he stood. “Get on the other side of me. And let me put my arm around your shoulder.”

  Scott looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “Considering I let you put your dick up my ass, I think I can handle an arm on my shoulders.”

  Liam wanted to punch his arm, but he needed all his balance. “Then you put your arm around my waist to help me hop.”

  “Got it.” Scott latched on, then wrapped his fingers around Liam’s wrist with his free hand.

  They managed to get to the bathroom with less lurching than Liam had expected. Probably because they were close to the same height.

  Liam balanced with the help of the toilet tank and tried to free his other arm from the grip Scott had on his wrist. “Thanks. I can take it from here. There’s stuff to hang on to.”

  Scott let go of Liam’s waist but shifted his other hold from wrist to elbow. “So you just call me when you want a ride back? What am I, an Uber?”

  Scott’s smirk chased away the last of the horror from Liam’s dream.

  “Hey. If watching me piss is your kink, have fun.” Liam lifted the lid and the seat, then hesitated. He probably should sit rather than wobble and spray the floor.

  Before he could turn, Scott wrapped both arms around Liam’s waist, then pressed against him, solid, steady support.

  “Everything about you is my kink and you damned well know it.” Scott rested his chin on Liam’s shoulder.

  Liam leaned back and grabbed his dick to aim. A naked Scott pressed against his back wasn’t at all like the impersonal touch of a nurse or therapist all those times he’d needed help to get him through the most basic stuff of living. He didn’t feel helpless. Scott holding him felt like love even though he’d never said it out loud. Not once in twelve years. Maybe he’d never say it.

  Liam had always believed in all the ways Scott showed him Scott loved him. That they’d gotten this much back, that Scott was here, Liam would have to believe what that told him too.

  Despite having had way too many people involved in his body functions those first few weeks in the hospital, having it be Scott watching him, holding him was somehow intimate.

  “So go for it.” Liam pulled Scott’s right hand down. “Aim for me.”

  Scott’s breath hitched against his ear, but when he spoke, his voice held all the usual detached sarcasm. “Water sports, Walsh? Now that is kinky. Maybe you want to give Beauchamp a call.”

  He cupped his hand around Liam’s dick, though.

  Liam shut his eyes, dropped his head back against Scott’s shoulder, and let go of the muscle holding in the stream. The splash echoed in the tiny space, but the hitch in Scott’s breathing sounded right in Liam’s ear.

  “Shake for me?” Liam grinned, knowing Scott would hear it in his voice.

  Scott’s laugh rumbled against his back, but he did it.

  Liam cupped the back of Scott’s head. “I need a shower. Wanna come in with me?”

  “Beats the truck-stop stall. I’m in.”

  I’m in. Scott’s words slid around in Liam’s brain looking for a memory to crash into, but since Liam was working hard on not remembering right now, he shook his head.

  “What?” Scott stood next to the tub as Liam sat on the rim to swing himself over.

  “Nothing. Just something I forgot.” After getting the spray going, he pulled himself up with the handrail attached to the back wall. “I could seriously use one of these at home.” Then Liam wanted to kick himself. Scott didn’t have a home and didn’t exactly feel welcome at Greg and Mom’s.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to install.” Scott tugged on the bar as he stepped in.

  But if they could make this work, they could get an apartment again. With what money? The EMT station at the fairground would be closing after October.

  The water smelled rusty, but there was decent water pressure. Liam hopped farther into the spray to make room for Scott.

  Scott shot a hand out to grab Liam’s hip. “Maybe play pogo stick on a different surface.”

  Liam looked back over his shoulder. “Aw. He cares.”

  Scott squeezed the flesh he was holding, then let go.

  Smooth, Walsh. Push him away harder next time. Liam grabbed the tiny shampoo bottle. “Wanna wash my hair?”

  Scott took the bottle without a single smart remark. After dragging his hands through Liam’s hair a few times, Scott said, “So, how much do you remember?”

  Liam went from relaxed to red alert in a heartbeat. Which, if he had to guess, was now approaching a hundred beats per minute. “From the dream?”

  Scott made a noisy sigh. “No. From before you fell asleep. After I came back in from smoking. Rinse.” He pushed Liam’s head under the spray.

  The rush of water blotted out sound and gave him a second to think. When he ducked back out, Scott was muttering, “…worst timing ever, I swear.”

  Scott tore open the soap and rubbed it across Liam’s shoulders, working up a lather, then working over the muscles, soothing and relaxing with deep pressure. Scott’s thumbs swept up to massage the base of Liam’s skull, easing away tension and a headache Liam had just begun to feel.

  “So?” Scott’s hands moved down Liam’s spine.

  “Mm.” Liam tried to think back while making a big detour around his dream in the middle. “You said something about the distributor cap, about you never being the one to leave.”

  Scott’s fingers skidded for an instant, and Liam swore he heard Scott’s teeth snap together.

  Liam went on. “And you said something like you knew why I always apologize.”

  You even made me like you.

  “Then you said you liked me.”

  Scott’s hands froze at Liam’s hips. A choked laugh vibrated through their echo chamber.

  “Yeah. That’s about it.” There was a pause before Scott went on in a voice huskier than Liam had ever heard from him. “Then I said I wanted to try and make this work. Us.”

  Liam forgot everything and spun around. Scott barely managed to keep them both upright.

  Liam rested his hands on Scott’s shoulders. “Seriously?”

  Scott rolled his eyes. His arms were wrapped tight around Liam’s waist. “Right. ’Cause I make a habit of spewing my feelings for a joke.”

  Liam wouldn’t exactly call it spewing feelings, but he’d take the win. He grabbed Scott’s face and kissed him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ACCORDING TO the red numbers on the motel’s digital nightstand clock, it was 4:17 a.m. Even if it had been twenty-one hours since Liam had really slept, he was wired. They were lying facing each other, and every time Liam remembered what Scott had said about giving them another chance, a wave of excitement and expectation rushed through him, and like the ocean, the supply seemed endless. He kept touching Scott’s face, studying the starburst patterns in his eyes in the light of the bedside lamp.

  “Dude. You’re freaking me out,” Scott said, but he smiled when he did.

  “Sorry. I’m just happy. I missed you so much. I need—” Liam cut himself off. To keep reminding myself it’s real didn’t exactly fit. If he was going to imagine perfection, they wouldn’t need to be hiding out in a hotel room. He wouldn’t have to worry about how freaked out his mom was going to be.

  Scott arched his scarred brow in invitation for Liam to finish, but he shook his head.

  “Okay.” Scott’s eyes got more focused, intent. “Well, I need to tell you some stuff.”

  Since Scott wasn’t someone to overshare, Liam’s heart sped up.

  “Not life-or-death, relax.” Scott tugged at the thick part of Liam’s cowlick. “It’s why I have to live at the bar right now.”

  When Scott first mentioned the settlement, Liam knew immediately that’s how Scott had bought the Mustang. He wasn’t surprised about the lawsuit. Scott had told him how unbearable things got at St. Bennie’s before he ran away.

  “I didn’t know I was going to owe taxes on it. Ratfuckers keep adding a penalty every month as long as I still owe ’em. When I make a regular paycheck, they take out so much I can’t live on it. Least not here in the city. So I’m saving up to get that monkey off my back. I know it’s not going to make things any easier for us.”

  Liam’s stomach squirmed with a fresh hatching of guilt worms. He’d come to appreciate Scott’s refusal to sugarcoat things, even when it kept him from saying things Liam wanted to hear. After the million broken promises making up Liam’s childhood, he’d clung to the fact that what Scott said, you could damned well believe. He’d never make a promise he wouldn’t keep.

  Liam just couldn’t be like that. Couldn’t use honesty like a weapon to keep people away. But he owed it to Scott to come clean about some of the half truths Liam had been hanging on to. Even if the whole truth meant he didn’t look the way he wanted Scott to see him.

  “I didn’t get hurt in Afghanistan,” he blurted out before he changed his mind.

  Scott tipped his head a little, but that was the only reaction to the confession that had scorched Liam’s throat like acid.

  “It wasn’t an IED. It was an accident. Off base. And it was my own fucking fault.”

  Scott propped his head up with a cocked elbow. “I gotta hear how you tore off your own leg and set your arm on fire. Go on.”

  Liam shook his head. Of course Scott would take Liam’s side. It only made this harder. “That skill set was above my paygrade.”

  “What was your paygrade?”

  In trying to keep from having to admit his own blame in the mess, Liam hadn’t told Scott anything except Army and Afghanistan.

  “I was a sixty-eight whiskey. Combat medic.”

  Scott’s eyes widened. “Damn. No shit?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you did become a doctor.”

  “Not really the same.”

  “Right.” Scott bit at a piece of his thumbnail, then turned his head to spit it at the headboard. “You were more important, keeping people’s guts in place while getting shot at.”

  “A couple times,” Liam admitted. Mostly it had been boring. The only really scary time had been when Ross took two pieces of shrapnel in his thigh on a patrol. Damn, that had been a lot of blood. And yelling. And dust and noise. Liam hadn’t known where anyone was, who might have been behind him as he tried to stop the blood pouring out.

  “After our 365, we were supposed to get two years at home base. But they cut it to one.”

  “Ratfuckers.” Scott spit away another piece of nail.

  “My buddy Ross comes to see me two nights before we’re supposed to deploy. Drags me out of my rack to say goodbye.”

  Scott didn’t interrupt with questions, but Liam found himself offering more explanations.

  “Ross, you’d have liked him. Check that. You’re too much alike. You’d have hated each other. I guess it’s why I got along with him. It was his second tour and he taught me guitar and backgammon and how to make better food out of the crap from the MREs.” They’d been at a combat outpost on Liam’s birthday, and Ross had managed a chocolate frosted cookie out of creamer, sugar, and cocoa packages, caramelizing it over a book of matches.

  Liam swallowed hard at that memory. He was sure Scott would get it. Being in a placement like St. Bennie’s wasn’t exactly like being part of an infantry platoon, but the frustration and boredom and rules and monotony that could make a friendship intense were.

  Scott nodded. “So he drags you out of bed to say goodbye.”

  “Yeah. He was freaked about going back. We were going to be doing more direct action, relieving a brigade that had had a lot of casualties.” Liam didn’t have to close his eyes to see it. The moon glinting off the black of the jeep, Ross with a hand on the door. “I thought he was going AWOL. I thought I could talk him out of it.”

  Liam glanced down at the rectangular patch of grafted skin on his forearm. He’d been such a cocky son of a bitch. “I knew I could talk him out of it. Just fucking knew it.”

  Scott put a hand on Liam’s face, thumb brushing gently across his cheek. Startled, Liam looked up. Scott wasn’t super touchy unless they were having sex. Not like Liam, who sometimes felt like an addict jonesing for some human contact. And when it was Scott and skin-to-skin, it was as if someone had pumped some Demerol into his IV. Scott didn’t reject Liam’s handsiness, at least not in private, but he couldn’t ever remember Scott reaching for him like this.

  “Go on. It’s okay,” Scott whispered.

  “He told me not to, but I climbed in his jeep. It was his own, civilian, not the Army’s. I tried to reason with him. How was going to military prison going to be better?” Liam turned his face into Scott’s palm for a few seconds. “I’ll never forget the way he looked when he said, ‘You don’t get it. I’m not going anywhere.’”

  Scott moved closer, resting his forehead against Liam’s.

  “He offered to let me out, but I said I wasn’t going to quit on him. I still really thought I could change his mind.” Liam took a deep breath and got the rest of it out. “I should have known then, but it wasn’t until he started swerving all over the road that I got what he meant.”