Page 154 of Beneath the Stain

“Oh yes, it is—”

“Oh no, it’s not—I got in abarfight, Mackey. It’s just like—”

“Just like when you nailed a smart-mouthed kid for scaring the shit out of you—what, Trav, you’re too good for my life? Is that what it’s like?”

“No,” Trav snarled. “No—I’m notstrongenough for your fuckin’ life. I… man, Mackey, this is a whole other world here. Andeverybodyloves Grant, andeverybodywants to be there for him, and—”

“And you think we don’t need you anymore?” Mackey laughed, his voice pitching hysterically. “Oh myGod, Trav, you havereallygot to listen.”

“To what—you tell me you don’t love him? Because how can you say that? Anybody would love that boy—anybody. I can’t even blame you—”

“Jesus fuck! You stubborn bastard—”

“I mean, he’s going to pass away, and I’ll be there to pick up the pieces and—”

“Fucking shut up and listen!” In one slick move, Mackey launched himself onto Trav, knocking him backward and lying on top of him, the rough denim of his jeans sanding the insides of Trav’s thighs.

Trav made to move. He could do it—he was bigger, stronger. They both knew it too.

“Please,” Mackey said simply, softly. “Please, Travis. You gotta hear what I’m saying here. I’ve seen you walk away from a crime scene. You don’t get mad, you don’t throw a fit—you just turn around and walk away and leave bloodied hearts behind you. Isawthe wreckage you left of Terry. Man, I was a wreck and a misery, and I saw that man in tears. Quick and easy—Trav can’t deal with the hard stuff, he decides he’s too much of a grown-up, and he walks away. Well, you didn’t walk away from me in rehab, and you agreed to take me on loan until I was whole, and then I’d be all yours. I’m whole, and I’m all yours. Are you really going to walk away from me now, without even listening?”

Trav closed his eyes, and some of the tension drained from his shoulders and his clenched stomach. He wasn’t going anywhere. Mackey had him. Trav had promised him he could be equal when he could handle it. Trav owed him a say.

“I’m listening,” he said, and in the weighted silence that followed, he heard every breath Mackey took, felt every movement of his body.

Wanted him.

“I had a full-on meltdown this morning. I woke up and you weren’t there, and Cheever was grabbing Briony’s boobs, and suddenly I was right back where I was after Charleston Klum had his way with me. The only thing missing was the torn-open ass.”

Trav’s face went cold, and he tightened his arms around Mackey’s waist. “Oh, McKay—”

“Don’t you use my full name like it didn’t happen!” Mackey shouted, pushing himself up on his knees and standing up.

Trav sat up and Mackey poked at his shoulder.

“I said listen—now listen. Then shower.Thensuck my dick, ’cause I’m telling you, we both need it.”

“Listening,” Trav said, bemused—andaroused, for sweet hell’s sake. God, Mackey on a roll was something to be admired.

“So there I was in front of my family, justlosing my fucking nut, and you know what? My brothers? They came through. My brothers came through. My best friend came through. So they arealllying on top of me, loving me, and I realize, hey! This is it. I am living my nightmares, but my family is here, and you know what? I didn’t need nothing—no Xanax, no booze, no coke. I mean, Iwant’em, sure. But I don’t need ’em. You know what I need, Travis? The one lousy fucking thing that I need?”

Trav closed his eyes, dropped his head, and allowed a smile to hit the corners of his mouth. “I know I really need you to say it,” he admitted, stripped and empty and knowing that even this might not get them through.

“I need you,” Mackey said, dropping to his knees and resting his head on Trav’s lap.

Trav stroked his hair restlessly, knowing it would be soft because all the bleach left it that way.

“You need Grant,” Trav said, and he wanted to laugh, because it was childish and insecure and stupid, and his heart still felt it was true.

Mackey looked up and met his eyes. Trav’s heart squeezed, thumped, squeezed again, and Trav had trouble taking his next fifty-dozen breaths. God, he was beautiful. Those big gray eyes, that turned-up nose. So beautiful. For the past year, he’d been Trav’s—and Trav had known from the beginning that he was only on loan from his demons. But now his demons were barking at their door, and Mackey wanted to be more than on loan. He wanted to mortgage his soul. It was a bargain Trav very much wanted to make, but God, Mackey was right.

He was so afraid.

“Trav, man—I know your last guy cheated, but you’ve got to know something. I don’t know what Grant is going to need. I don’t know why he’s so damned happy to have us here. But I swear to you, I could go down on my knees and blow him for old time’s sake, for closure, for whatever the hell that comes up, and it would not have afucking thingto do with how I feel about you. IsworeI wouldn’t make a fool of you. I was three months out of rehab, and every day was still a battle, but I promised. Have I gone back on that promise in any way?”

Trav closed his eyes. “No,” he whispered, clenching Mackey’s hair. He was wearing a towel—just a towel—and Mackey’s head rested in his lap, his breath stirring the fine hairs along his thigh, and he offered such comfort.

And he was magnificent.