Double Play (Hit and Run Book 3), page 6
Orion’s eyes filled with pity for a second, and Hervé hated it. “Yeah. Seems like it. Were, uh…were you looking for me?”
Suddenly, Hervé’s resolve started losing strength, and biting, acidic words formed on his tongue. He wanted to tell him no, that he wasn’t so pathetic. That he was just in the neighborhood. That Orion shouldn’t think he was important.
But he swallowed them back because that was the man Hervé was—not the one he was becoming.
He took a breath and stood, trying to save some of his pride. “I came to apologize.”
Orion looked vaguely amused. “For swooning in my arms like a duchess?”
Hervé’s lips thinned as Orion laughed, and he waited for a beat. “For being…me.”
Orion sobered immediately, and he took a step back, rubbing his fingers through his hair. “Oh. Yeah, I figured you recognized me last night.”
Hervé’s cheeks darkened with heat. “I should have said something, but I was in shock.”
“To be fair, I didn’t really recognize you until I looked up your Instagram,” Orion told him. “I mean, it wasn’t like we were friends back then.”
No, they weren’t. And Hervé had been such a shithead that he probably wouldn’t have given Orion the time of day unless he’d wanted to make Pietro jealous. Shame curled through him as he shrugged. “I just want you to know that I won’t be bothering you again. I…well. I can’t make up for what I did, but I’m trying to be better. And please let Pietro know that I—”
“Look, man,” Orion said, holding up a hand, “not to hurt your feelings, but Pietro and Thierry don’t give much of a shit about you. They don’t really talk about you at all, and I have no plans to pass along any messages.”
And oh, yes. It stung. But there was a sudden and almost profound relief to know that their lives weren’t miserable because he’d been awful. The last time he’d seen Thierry, his former friend was still in pain, and Hervé was on a spiral, and he knew he’d only made it worse.
“I didn’t mean to be cruel,” Orion said quietly.
Hervé looked up and realized that his eyes were wet. He quickly swiped his hand over them and shook his head, taking careful breaths so he didn’t trigger another attack. “No,” he said, and his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “No, that’s…good. That’s good, right? That they don’t care?”
Orion laughed slightly, looking confused. “It’s good for them.”
“And me,” Hervé insisted. He licked his lips and glanced around him. “Maybe people don’t realize that I know what kind of person I was, but I do. Et je m’en veux.” He tapped his chest. “I was a shit.”
Orion blinked, then looked like he was trying to fight back a grin, but he failed. “Yeah. You were an epic shit, man.”
Hervé huffed a soft laugh and shrugged. “I know it. The last time I was there, I was at my worst. I don’t have any excuses, and I’m not going to bother either of them for forgiveness. That’s not what I want.”
Orion’s head tilted to the side as he regarded Hervé long enough it made him squirm. “So…what do you want, then? Or are you fine with how it all ended?”
Hervé scoffed. “Would you be fine with it?”
“No, but I like to think I wouldn’t have pulled the shit you did, either,” Orion said plainly.
Hervé flinched and took a step backward. The shame was burning through him now, like hot coals.
“I’m sorry. Hey, look—”
“No,” Hervé said, forcing himself to meet Orion’s gaze. It felt like climbing a goddamn mountain, but he wasn’t going to back down now. His therapist said these moments would be hard. That admitting what he’d done and accepting the judgment of others would make him want to crawl back into the indifferent asshole he was before. But he’d made himself a promise, and he intended on keeping it. “Don’t be sorry. I deserve that and worse, but I don’t say that because I want pity. I just want to be better.”
Orion was quiet for a long while, and then he stuck out his hand. His fingers were so thick, and when Hervé touched Orion’s palm with his own, he felt the callouses on his skin. They were rough and rugged—just like Pietro had—and it sent a shiver down his spine.
“Not a lot of people would do the work, you know.” Orion squeezed his fingers.
Hervé hunched his shoulders. “It’s hard some days, but I can’t keep living like this. I tried for so many years, and it ruined me. It’s either fix myself or give up. And I’ve never given up before.”
Orion’s face softened as he pulled his hand away and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. “So that’s that, huh?”
Hervé shrugged. He didn’t know what that phrase meant entirely, but he understood the tone it was spoken in. “Thank you for not punching me in the face when you realized who I was.”
Orion’s eyes went wide. “Do I look like the kind of man who goes around punching people?”
Hervé smiled, but it faltered as he felt a wave of fatigue hit him. His blinks were getting slower and longer. Shit. “I would have deserved it.” His tongue felt thick, and his chin started to dip. Sleep was about to claim him, and he had no control. “Listen, I should…I should go.”
“You gonna pass out on me again?”
Hervé started to shake his head, but he realized he was. He dropped to his knees and patted the grass around him for sharp rocks. “Feel free to judge me all you want. But…I’m…” He curled onto his side. Words were too hard. And he was too far gone.
6
Hervé woke with a vague memory of being carried inside a house, but he’d recently started having vivid hallucinations in place of his dreams as his narcolepsy got worse. He’d also taken to sleepwalking when it was particularly bad, and he’d woken up in a few strange places over the last few weeks.
With a ball of panic in his chest, Hervé glanced around him and realized that no, he hadn’t been hallucinating. He had come all the way to Orion’s cottage, attempted to explain himself, then passed out in his garden.
Fantastic.
He scrubbed his hands down his face, then stared down at the duvet he was on. It was a thick quilt with tiny flowers all over it like his mamé used to have. But instead of smelling like dried roses, it smelled like cheap laundry powder. He shifted to the edge of the bed, then glanced around and didn’t see any of Orion’s things, which meant he was in the guest room.
His cheeks started burning again, and he swallowed back a lump of frustration as he made his way out of the room. He briefly considered trying to sneak out, but as he passed the sofa, Orion stuck his head through the kitchen doorway and pinned him with a gaze.
“Is that how you say thanks? Creeping out?”
Hervé huffed and rolled his eyes. “It is when I humiliate myself by passing out on your lawn.”
Orion scoffed and jerked his head toward the kitchen. “I’ve got that fucking amazing dried sausage and cheese…and some fresh bread because that barista kid all but ripped me a new asshole for trying to eat old baguette.”
Hervé laughed softly, but as much as he wanted to escape, the fact that Orion invited him to stay meant something else. He wasn’t used to that. He was used to imposing himself on people and ignoring the obvious signs of wearing out his welcome.
His socked feet tapped on the bare floors, and he wondered if Orion had taken his shoes off before he brought him inside. The thought made his chest a little tingly, but he shoved that aside as he joined Orion at the little counter.
There was a charcuterie board laid out with a few wedges of soft cheese and a saucisson that had been hacked up by a serrated knife. Hervé fought the urge to flinch, but Orion looked so damn pleased with himself that he couldn’t. Instead, he glanced at the baguette, which he’d clearly torn into with his hands—so at least he’d gotten that part right.
“Here,” Orion said as he pushed a stool closer. “You can sit. Let me—” He grabbed the baguette and tore it down the middle, and Hervé flinched. “What?” Orion asked with a frown.
“You don’t eat that part,” he scolded, pointing to the center.
Orion looked adorably lost. “Why the hell not? It’s bread.”
“You want to eat your armpit sweat, be my guest.”
Orion blinked rapidly. “It…what?”
Hervé quickly realized that Orion probably hadn’t tucked it under his arm to carry it home. He’d probably tucked it into a little market cart and treated it with the delicacy of a fine foreign food. God, he wanted to…
Kiss him?
Hug him?
He’d never been so confused. Yes, Orion was unbearably attractive, but he was also so different than anyone Hervé had ever known. When he was with Pietro, the guy was very much a professional player, but he was also a professional playboy. Pietro had changed the longer they were together, but when they first met, he was like every other flakey, arrogant asshole Hervé kept in his inner circle.
Orion was nothing like that.
“When we buy the bread, we carry it like this.” Hervé mimed putting the bread under his arm. “So you don’t eat the middle.”
Orion pulled a face, which made Hervé laugh—which then made his arms weaken. He gripped the counter, and when Orion moved close, he shook him off.
“I’m okay.” And he was, in more ways than one. Reaching over, he tore a piece of the baguette, then snatched up the cheese knife and spread a thick layer. It was hard to remember the days when he didn’t let himself have carbs or dairy or anything that made him feel good. He took a bite and sighed at the taste. “I couldn’t do this before.”
Orion lifted a brow. “Do what? Eat lunch with a friend?”
“Eat anything like this,” Hervé admitted. “Anything that tasted good was off-limits. I couldn’t risk my figure.”
With a sigh, Orion sawed off more of the meat, and Hervé hid his laugh as the guy shoved it toward him, then gestured at the small pot of spicy mustard. “If it helps, my nutritionist is going to murder me when I get home, but this is worth it.”
Hervé grinned, delicately picking up some of the meat, and he dipped the edge in the mustard. Flavor exploded across his tongue, and he chewed until suddenly he couldn’t. He tried to brace himself, but he started to fall, and his throat let out an involuntary grunt as Orion’s arms went around him to catch him before he fell face-first.
Hervé struggled to regain control, and as Orion gently rubbed a hand over his arm, he started to come back to himself. Anger rushed through him, and he clenched his jaw as he wrenched away from Orion’s touch. “Don’t.”
Orion gave him a pointed stare. “You wanted a face full of mustard?”
“I want to eat a fucking piece of bread without losing control!” Hervé’s head was swimming, and he stood up, stumbling into the living room before he collapsed on the sofa. His body was fine, but his frustration was building in the back of his throat like a stone threatening to choke him.
Covering his hot, wet eyes, he ignored the sound of Orion’s feet as he walked into the room.
“I forgot you said you had to be careful where you ate.” The words sounded like an apology. “I didn’t think.”
“Why should you?” Hervé asked, his tone laced with bitterness. “It’s not something you have to think about.”
“No.” There was a quiet whump of air as Orion dropped down beside him, and Hervé heard the quiet thunk of the cheese board hitting the coffee table. “I guess I don’t, but I should have. I’m not the kind of guy who ignores things my friends need. I don’t invite Pietro places where it gets loud, and I don’t invite Thierry to clubs that have stairs. I can do this too.”
Hervé knew those words weren’t meant to be salt in his wounds, and he also knew he had no right to feel sorry for himself because none of his friends would ever be so considerate. The truth was he had cultivated his social group with selfish assholes just like him so he could feel a little less bad about himself. He couldn’t let himself be surprised now that they were all gone.
“It’s supposed to get better,” he said eventually. He dropped his hands and sat up a little bit, but when Orion offered him more, he shook his head. His appetite was shot. “My doctor says it’ll get better once we work out the treatment that my brain likes.”
Orion hummed as he chewed. “What’s it feel like?”
Hervé shrugged and rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. He traced an old crack in the plaster with his gaze. “I have this…rush, in my body,” he said, trying to find the words. “When it’s triggered by emotions. It’s like adrenaline, then this sensation like a string snaps. That’s when I know it’s gone too far. Everything feels weak, and it’s so awful because I can hear everything going on around me, but I’m stuck. I can’t…I can’t scream, I can’t shout for help, I can’t brace my fall. I just have to lie there.”
Orion swallowed thickly. “Is there a cure?”
“No,” Hervé said, more defeated than sad about it anymore. “Mine was made worse by stress and my…my drug addiction. I was so fucked-up, but my doctor said it would have happened no matter what I did. The only difference is I might have caught it earlier and started treatment before it got this bad.” Hervé rubbed the side of his head where he could feel lumps of scar tissue from the stitches. “Sometimes I think it’s my punishment.”
“If you believe in that sort of thing,” Orion said softly.
Hervé wasn’t really sure if he did or not. Those were thoughts he had in his lowest moments, when he struggled to accept that this was his new reality, but good things happened to bad people. And bad things happened to good ones. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to life.
Picking at his thumbnail, he glanced at Orion out of his periphery. “I hate that everything you know about me is…this. It’s either a terrible asshole who hurt your friends or some pathetic little creature who needs to have someone wipe his face because he fell asleep in soup.”
“Mustard,” Orion corrected.
In spite of himself, Hervé fought back a smile. “You know what I mean.”
Orion’s lip twitched, hiding his own grin. “We could try to do something else, you know? Instead of sitting at home eating sausage and cheese. We could go check out the sites.”
Hervé met his gaze. “If you’re going to ask me to go to some tourist trap, the answer is no.”
Orion laughed and shook his head. “I was thinking that…place over the bridge. Mont…saint something?”
“Mont-Saint-Michel,” Hervé said absently.
Orion grinned. “That’s the one. I heard it’s cardio as fuck.”
“I don’t know what that phrase means,” Hervé said primly.
Orion laughed harder, and Hervé had the sudden urge to keep him making that sound because it was fucking beautiful. “It means it’s gonna work your body hard. It’s all uphill, right?”
“I’ve never been,” Hervé admitted. “The only reason I ever came to Brittany was to visit my grandparents when I was very little, and they were too old for something like that.”
Orion’s expression went a little soft. “Well, maybe we can change that. Just because you’re French doesn’t mean you can’t be a tourist.”
Hervé desperately wanted to say yes. He wanted to lean in and take everything Orion was offering, but he couldn’t. “That sounds like a good way for me to get another crack in my skull. And—” Hervé hesitated, fighting the words that were railing against his chest, but he had to say them. He couldn’t let this continue. “And I meant what I said before. I don’t think we should keep seeing each other.”
Orion’s eyes went wide, and Hervé saw pain reflected in them. “My company’s that bad, huh?”
Hervé bit his lip and shook his head. “It’s not fair to either of us. I can’t—I’ll never be able to undo what I did to people that you love. And I know this doesn’t mean anything, but I don’t want you to live with the weight of a burden I created.”
“You do know that I’m allowed to make my own decisions about who I hang out with, right?” Orion fired back. He dropped the piece of bread he was holding and ran his fingers around his mouth. “And I actually called Pietro and told him we met.”
Hervé sucked in a breath. “That’s why you know they don’t…that I’m not…”
“Yes,” Orion said, stopping him before he had to repeat the words that had stung so badly. “That’s how I know. Pietro is happy. He’s in love. He’s moved on, and he doesn’t hate you, Hervé. He doesn’t…”
“Think about me. You did say that already,” Hervé answered.
Orion looked sorry, but he didn’t apologize. “You can’t move forward if you’re going to keep holding yourself back. I can never, ever forgive you on behalf of the people you hurt. I won’t even try, and if Pietro ever asked me to make a choice, I wouldn’t side against him.”
Hervé swallowed with a tight throat. “Of course not.”
“But he’s not asking me to do that.”
Hervé’s heart was beating against his ribs so hard he wondered if he’d actually be able to see it if he looked down. But he wasn’t brave enough. Instead, he stood up and steadied himself. “I should go.”
Orion sighed, but it was one of resignation. “Fine. But look, I’m going to head over there on Monday. Nine in the morning. So, if you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” Hervé said, more harshly than he meant to. He took a breath, but he had his mind made up. “I’m sorry, but I won’t.”
“Okay.” Orion brushed his hands off on his jeans, then rose and took a single step closer. “Can I walk you home?”
Hervé shook his head, regretting it and yet…not. “It would be best if you don’t.” He met Orion’s gaze for another moment, then turned and headed for the door. His shoes were waiting for him there, so he slipped them on, feeling Orion’s presence lurking behind him. Without looking back, he rested his hand on the doorknob, then bowed his head and let himself linger in the first moment of acceptance and peace he’d had since he was young.
Then he opened the door and stepped out. For his own sake, and for Orion’s, he was determined not to see him again.
