Double Play (Hit and Run Book 3), page 12
Especially because what he’d done with Orion had been different. There had been no performance. He hadn’t been caught up in how he looked or the way he sounded. He hadn’t treated fucking like it was a runway show. He just let himself feel it.
He let himself get carried away by rough, calloused hands on his dick and sharp teeth that found the spot on his neck no one ever had before. He let himself sink into real, actual pleasure that had him damn near terrified because he didn’t know it could feel like that.
And when he collapsed after into a cataplexy attack, Orion had just kissed him over and over until his body released him from his neurological prison. When it was over, he didn’t leave. Orion held him and kissed him and stayed.
Reaching over to Orion’s side of the bed, Hervé noted that it was still slightly warm, so he hopped out of bed and had a quick piss before shuffling into the living room. He found Orion there, bent over the now-clean coffee table, scribbling something on a piece of paper.
His heart sank to his feet. “Is that a…what do you call it? The letter you send. It’s not you, it’s me?”
Orion jumped, spinning around, but the look on his face wasn’t guilt, and it wasn’t fear. It was horror, and it was grief. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his mouth was slack. “I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with tears, and Hervé took a few steps closer.
“Mon chéri,” he murmured.
Orion shook his head, but his lip wobbled, and when Hervé opened his arms, Orion curled into them, making himself fit. They tumbled to the side, and Hervé managed to get them to the sofa as his fingers quickly brushed through Orion’s hair.
“What is it?”
“My…it. Carey,” he murmured. “My brother.”
The sick one. Hervé swallowed. “Tell me.”
“He had a stroke. He…I don’t know what the fuck happened. My sister said he was feeling under the weather, so they took him to the hospital and…” His voice broke, and he stopped, taking a trembling breath. “He’s not there anymore. He’s on life support, but there’s nothing…he can’t come back.” Orion pulled back and took a steadying breath. “I have to go.”
“Bien sûr. Of course,” Hervé said in a rush.
Orion pulled back and dragged both hands down his face. “I need to go pack, and I need to book a flight, and I…I need to—”
“Let me help,” Hervé said quickly.
Orion blinked like he was trying to clear fog from his head. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do.”
“I can get you a flight. Private,” Hervé said, and when Orion’s brows flew up, Hervé huffed a soft laugh. “I have a friend. I have a lot of friends. I have favors I can call in.”
“Don’t waste them on me,” Orion told him quietly.
Hervé gave him a dark look. “They’d never be wasted on you. Please. It’s the least I can do. I’m a total mess, and I’d offer to come with you just for the support, but…”
“Would you?” Orion said.
There was a note of hope in his voice that made Hervé’s heart want to crack in half, and he quickly took his lover’s hand. “You don’t want me there. You want your friends there.”
“I do,” Orion said, squeezing back. “And I know it’s probably nuts, but if you’re not…I mean, if you can fly.” He stopped and shook his head. “I know it’s crazy. We just met, but…I think I need you.”
Hervé wanted to run. He wanted to tell Orion no because this was no place for him. They weren’t anything to each other, even if right now it felt like everything. And the idea that he might have to face Pietro and Thierry and all their friends who surely hated the very fiber of his being was a lot.
But then he met Orion’s gaze, and he saw the pain in them and the need. He realized that maybe for the first time in his life, he didn’t care what other people thought. Or, at the very least, he would weather it because he was falling hard and falling fast, and there was very little Orion could ask him to do that he’d turn down.
“Okay.”
Orion blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Ouais. I know it might be tense and awkward if Pietro and Thierry come, but anything you need from me, I’ll give it.”
Orion bit his lip, and then he nodded. “Can you pack quickly?”
Hervé stood up, and his world felt a little heavy. “Yes. But I might be more of a burden than a help, you realize?”
Orion shook his head as he rose to his feet and pulled him close. “I need you. I’ll run back to the cottage and pack. You do what you need to do here, okay? And I’ll be back for you.”
Hervé nodded, and he reached up, touching Orion’s face. “If you change your mind—”
He was silenced with a kiss, the taste a little salty from leftover tears. When Orion pulled back, he knocked their foreheads together. “Enough. I’ll be back for you. And I’m not going to change my mind.”
Hervé stood in the middle of the room, and after the door shut and Orion’s car left the drive, he stood a few more minutes after that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to believe Orion would be back for him. He wasn’t sure how he was going to cope with what was coming next.
The only thing that really mattered was that he wasn’t just willing—he was determined. And for the first time in his life, he trusted himself.
In what felt like a blink of an eye, Hervé packed, made a phone call to beg a favor from an old friend who sounded oddly pleased to hear from him, took his meds, contacted the rental agency to let them know he was vacating, and then sent a message to his doctor. Time seemed to be moving at a different speed, and his limbs felt a little weak from the stress of knowing what was coming the moment Orion got back to his place, but it was the first time he’d moved with any real hustle in a long time.
It felt good—until it didn’t.
The fear of what loomed over the horizon, coupled with the other fear that Orion would change his mind and just leave him hanging, had him slumping over into a fitful, strange sleep. The dreams were just as real and powerful as usual, and he woke to a hand on his cheek he didn’t quite believe was real.
“…baby. If this is too much for you, just say the word. I know I asked you to come, but if it’s too much—”
Hervé forced himself to sit, trying to shake the grogginess from his limbs. “Staying here won’t change my body,” he told Orion, searching his face and wondering if maybe Orion was just looking for an excuse to leave him behind. But all he saw in his ocean blues was worry. He lifted his hand and touched Orion’s cheek. “As long as you don’t mind that I’m messy.”
Orion growled, surging in for a kiss. It was a little harsh, and Orion’s lips were cold, but it still felt wanted. “You’re not messy. And I want you with me. I just wish we could do this trip under better circumstances.”
Right. Because his brother-in-law was dying. His best friend was, for all intents and purposes, no longer there. He was just a body being kept around so the living could process before they turned off machines and let him rest.
The thought was terrifying—being trapped in a body, in pain, exhausted, desperate to leave and trapped by those who loved him. Though, Hervé thought with a bitter smile as he stood up from the sofa, he wasn’t really sure he had anyone who’d want to keep him around for long.
The only one who might was his mother, and only because she’d want to make a big, public show of her grief. It would never be about him.
He swallowed back a throat full of bitter bile and tried to find his center as he grabbed his medication bag from the counter and threw it on top of his suitcase. The house was fairly tidy, and the owners assured him they had a cleaning service coming by so all he had to do was leave the keys.
It felt odd saying goodbye to this little sanctuary. It had felt like a prison at first, and then Orion had come along, and suddenly, it was paradise.
But life and everything that came with it would not be held on pause for long, and Hervé’s luck only stretched so far. He laid the key on the table, then smiled when Orion took his free hand.
“Is this okay?”
“You can touch me anywhere, anytime,” Hervé said, parroting the man’s words back to him.
Orion snorted, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes, but he did squeeze Hervé’s fingers as they made his way to his hired car, and he threw the bags inside. Slipping into the passenger seat, Hervé loaded up the GPS on his phone to the private airfield where the jet was waiting.
Michel was an old friend—a stunt actor who had worked on a few films with Hervé before he shattered his hips in a bad fall. He’d recovered enough to walk but not to go back to his job, so he took his passion to flying. He had been wild even after the accident, and Hervé vaguely recalled sleeping with him once or twice on a long binge of booze and some sort of white powder that made him feel like he was flying without the plane.
Hervé had been younger then—long before he’d even heard Pietro’s name. Thierry had always hated Michel though. But then again, he hated anyone who made Hervé reckless, and Hervé always assumed it was jealousy.
He hadn’t realized that he had a true friend who didn’t want to keep him around for what he might get. And what a fool he’d been to ruin that in such a glorious blaze.
“Baby?”
Hervé startled, still not used to the sweet names Orion used for him, and he turned his head. “I’m sorry. The car makes me sleepy.”
“I know.” Orion took his hand off the gear shift for a second to brush fingers through Hervé’s hair. “You can doze off if you need to.”
Hervé didn’t at the moment. His meds were working well, and his nerves were combatting his usual driving fatigue. His eyes felt a little heavy, but he realized he didn’t want to miss the last of the countryside as it flew by.
It really was beautiful. It was green and so old—so much lived history on the streets. He’d never been the sort of man who could give it the proper respect it deserved. At least, not until now. Not until he was forced to realize, on bended knee, just how fragile and desperate a man could become with no way to stop it or regain control.
Hervé would always be ruled by his disorder now, even if he found his feet. He would never be able to be carefree or thoughtless ever again. Everything he did would require second thoughts and third considerations, and he could never, ever let his guard down.
His throat ached as he shoved those thoughts away because now wasn’t the time to sink into his own self-pity. Orion needed him, and there was every chance that the moment Hervé set foot in the States and faced off with his ex and his former best friend, he’d be sent away because Orion didn’t need the tension.
And Hervé was more than willing to sacrifice himself for Orion.
He had to find the strength in himself to endure, and that had been his problem for most of his life. He hadn’t known where to look, so he just let others catch him every time he fell, and now, he was learning how to brace himself too damn many years late.
Tipping his head back, Hervé reached over and played with the short hairs on the edge of Orion’s sharp undercut and lost himself in the sensation as the GPS counted down the time to their destination.
Twenty minutes.
Twelve.
Nine.
Six.
He could see the airfield in the distance—the hangar and a few smaller planes that were on the runway. Most of them were little puddle jumpers that cruised over the beaches, but he could see a long, sleek jet far off, and he recognized it from the few trips he’d taken with Michel.
His heart thumped a little hard at the memories that were pressing against the inside of his head, but he didn’t lose himself to them. That was another life—another person—and as much as he missed when his body wasn’t collapsing every time he so much as chuckled, he didn’t miss the man he was.
“Is that it?” Orion asked.
Hervé startled, realizing that they hadn’t spoken almost the entire drive. But more than that, he realized the silence hadn’t just been comfortable. It had been kind. “That’s it. That jet back there. There’s a security guard, and he’ll let us through.”
Orion nodded, his grip on the wheel tight as he downshifted to make the turn. The road was long to the gate, but soon enough, they were rolling to a stop, and Hervé leaned over Orion, smiling at the guy in the black uniform.
“Do you have a pass?”
Hervé shook his head, but he dug into his wallet for his ID. “We’re here for Michel Aubert. He put us on the list.”
The guard spoke into his intercom, then nodded and handed the ID back, taking three steps away. The gate opened, and Orion let out a short breath as they drove through.
“Why was that terrifying?”
Hervé grinned at him as he settled back into his seat. “Do you get stopped a lot at borders?”
“Looking like this?” Orion asked with his brows up, then scoffed. “Not where I come from. Well, sometimes Pietro would, because you know how that fucker likes to push buttons, but—” He stopped abruptly, and Hervé knew why.
“You can talk about him. Unless he asked you not to,” he said gently.
Orion sighed as he followed the signs to the parking area, then he paled. “What about the car? Shit. How do I get this back? I didn’t even think—”
Hervé reached for him and touched his wrist. “Arête, mon chéri. We can have someone here do it. Do you not understand the perks of being very rich?”
Orion’s mouth opened, then snapped shut, and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he pulled the car into a spot and turned it off. “I’m still kind of a small Midwestern town boy at heart, I think. Two years ago, I wanted to get the floors redone on my house, but I didn’t have time to do it, and when Pietro told me to just hire someone, I wanted to slap myself because I forgot I could do that.”
Hervé snorted a soft laugh through his nose to avoid letting out the big chuckle that was building in his chest. He was retraining himself to temper all of his emotions, but he missed being able to belly-laugh more than anything. It had been so long, and with Orion, it was the first time he actually wanted to in what felt like years.
“Well, there will be someone here who can take care of it for you. Or you can call the company and have them send someone to pick it up,” Hervé told him, reaching for the door handle.
He was starting to feel a little tired now, but it wouldn’t be long before they were on the plane, and then he could rest. The jet had a bed in the back that would be just large enough for the pair of them. He knew those sheets a little too well, but he wasn’t going to bring that up to Orion.
And frankly, even if Orion had been in the mood for something like that, it wasn’t a place for it. Orion was far too precious to taint with his ugly past.
With a breath, Hervé retrieved his case and waited for Orion to get his. He was already on the phone with the car company, so Hervé took the lead and headed toward the hangar, where he could already see Michel waiting.
Even from as far off as he was, Hervé could see he looked the same. Tall, thin, with an arrogant lift of his pointed chin. He had short, curly dark hair and olive skin from his Spanish mother and the Parisian attitude from his father, who descended from the long-dead royal line. At least, that’s what Michel had liked to tell everyone, and Hervé didn’t ever care enough to look into it.
The only thing that mattered was that Michel hung around and worshipped Hervé enough to help him stay in a fog so he didn’t have to think about anything except the present.
As they got closer and he could see Michel’s brows lift, he felt a sudden pulse of self-consciousness. He’d never, ever let anyone see him like this. He was dressed too casually, his hair a mess, his face unkempt. He had dark circles under his eyes from his shit sleep, and he knew his lips were probably chapped. He didn’t have a drop of makeup on, and he knew he was missing his swagger.
“Hervé,” Michel said with his arms out, taking a few steps closer to close the distance.
Hervé kissed him on his cheeks. “Michel. It’s good to see you. Thank you for doing this.”
“You know I have a soft spot for attractive Americans in need,” Michel said, glancing over Hervé’s shoulder to where Orion was still talking on the phone. “Is he for sharing?”
Hervé’s gaze hardened. “No. In fact, it’s best if you stay in the cockpit.”
Michel looked surprised but not upset. His head tilted to the side. “You like him.”
Hervé let out a quiet sigh and shrugged. “Yes.”
“So, is everything true, then? Everyone said you had a breakdown and quit the business. I saw the footage from the Cannes, and Toni said you went to rehab. But a couple of the guys argued and said that you have a terminal illness.”
Hervé passed a hand down his face and shook his head. “I was in rehab,” he admitted, not ashamed of that bit. “And it’s not terminal, but I am sick. It’s not catching,” he added as Michel took a step back.
Michel, for his part, had the grace to look embarrassed as he shook his head and put up his hands. “Hervé, no. I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. I just didn’t know.”
Hervé waved him off. “It’s fine. By this point, I’m used to it.”
“Can I ask—”
“It’s complicated,” Hervé snapped, interrupting him. He was tired of talking about it, and he knew Michel would run his mouth. The moment he said it, the word would spread, and Hervé would lose control of the narrative. He wasn’t ready for that. “Are we able to board?”
Michel stared at him for a second, then shrugged. “Be my guest. Inspections are done, and we’re just refueling. I’m taking Matis with me as a co-pilot.”
Hervé didn’t recognize the name, but he did recognize the look on Michel’s face. “Boyfriend?”
Michel scoffed, but there was a softness in his smile Hervé wasn’t used to seeing. “Something like that. Oh, and look, it seems your guest is ready to join us,” he added, switching to English.
Orion shoved his phone into his pocket, then extended his hand before curling it back toward his body and shooting Hervé a helpless look. “Sorry. You don’t shake hands here, right?”
