Page 4 of The Barn: Frost and Q

Four

Q should never have asked Frost to stay the night.

Morning.

Whatever.

He knew better, but he’d been lonely and worried and a little desperate, so he’d caved, but now?

Frost never went away.

He was at the cameras. He was calling. He was bringing food and flying in therapists and generally driving Q out of his stupid mind.

All he wanted to do was his work, his watching, and his sleeping. It was a routine. Safe. Secure. Steady.

He didn’t need Frost threatening to make his closet bigger, put a king bed in there…

Like there was room. This was his spot, but it was a finite space. Frost was just going to have to deal with that fact.

He felt bad, because Frost had a hard time fitting in there with him, but then, that had always been the idea.

Now, though, he’d created a monster. Of hope. And he wasn’t sure what the fuck to do.

Right now, he was going to shout at the physical therapist. “I am not going to go get in the pool today. I do not feel like it. Not not notty not.”

“Mr. Kelly says you are…”

“Mr. Kelly can kiss my ass.”

The therapist, who he refused to call by name but who was actually a “Lane”, grinned. “I won’t comment on that. Come on, if you do the hydrotherapy, you get the hot tub.”

“If I wanted to get in the pool, I would have been in there already!” He did love having a scream. It was so relaxing, releasing all sorts of pent-up tension.

“Mmmhmm. But you like it once you get in.”

“I do not!” This damn sub was infuriating. He just didn’t get mad. Period. Lane was unflappable.

“Enough.” Frost glared at him from across the room where he had appeared like smoke, arms crossed over his chest. “You’re going, baby boy.”

“Fuck you. I will not.”

Frost arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear a safe word.”

His blood boiled, but only because Frost was right. He didn’t want to have to make decisions. He wanted to rant and rail and not have to worry about getting in trouble. “I said, Fuck. You!”

Frost arched an eyebrow, then scooped him up and put him over one shoulder. “Bring his chair, Lane.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Put me down!”

“If you aren’t careful, you’re going to be heard all over the building.”

He snapped his teeth closed, grinding them until his head hurt a little.

Frost put him in his chair, then cupped his cheeks in both hands, staring into his eyes. “Come swim with me.”

“Not therapy?” He could maybe deal with that. Maybe.

“No. Not therapy. Swimming with me.” Those golden hazel eyes held his gaze, not letting him look away.

He heard the door click shut as whatshisname left, and he nodded, his hands coming up to rest on Frost’s arms. “I can do that. With you.”

“Good. I want that.”

His legs worked, for the most part. His issue was balance. He wasn’t sure or steady on his feet, and he found the chair easier, faster. He never felt scared, never felt as if he was going to fall when he was in the chair.

Frost had been pushing him to walk more, to work on his balance, and the hydrotherapy was honestly the best way to do that. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to do everything Frost wanted him to do. He had never been a good little sub.

Not to mention he was still having fucking panic attacks when he left his room.

“Come on, baby boy. I’ll wheel you down, and we’ll swim.”

“No.” He gripped the arms of his chair instead of Frost. “No. I want to stay here.”

“No, you’re afraid, but you want to come with me.

Look, I’ll clear the pool.” Frost sat back on his heels, pulling out his phone.

He clicked around, then held it to his ear.

“Jace. Yes. Is there anyone at the pool and hot tub? Great. Can you close it for a private event? Thanks. Yeah, and can you get some juices and nibbles down there? Perfect. No, just like fruit, cheese… Yeah. Thanks.”

Frost clicked off the call and smiled at him. “See? Easy peasy. These are the perks of being owners.” He stood, then moved around behind the chair. “Grab your towel and suit.”

He snagged the bundle as they went by, and he put it on his lap, wanting to rail at Frost, but also wanting to go so bad he ached with it. Frost was a hell of a swimmer, and he loved to watch the man cut through the water.

He always had.

“Good boy.”

God, Quentin wanted to snap that he wasn’t a boy, but he was, in the way that Frost meant it. Frost had been his Dom as well as his husband. Still was the husband part, because he couldn’t bring himself to push the divorce.

He didn’t want it. But he couldn’t stand Frost’s guilt. It tore at him every day.

“Why do you keep pushing me?” Quentin snapped.

“Because I can’t just let you hide, Q.” Frost pushed him into the elevator, then hit the lower-level button for the fitness club and pool.

“Why not? You don’t want to have to see me be weak. Why should anyone else have to?”

“Is that what you think?” Frost looked down at him when he looked up. “That I’m ashamed of you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No! Jesus, Q. No.” Frost lowered his voice after the explosive negative. “I am so not ashamed of you. Never.”

“But you can’t look at me without guilt or pity.” He saw it. He knew he did.

“I don’t pity you.” Frost blew out a hard breath. “I do feel guilty. This is my fault.”

“This what?”

“This whole situation. The fact that you got shot! That they tried to kidnap you.”

“Did you tell them to?”

“No. No, of course not, baby.” The elevator dinged, and Frost wheeled him out once the doors opened.

There was a hush in the plush hall that led to the pool deck, which was behind sliding glass doors to keep in the humidity and warmth. The hot tub bubbled away, and fancy lounge chairs were strewn around, along with tables and chairs, and a bar along one wall.

He sighed. “Take me to the end where I can change in the bathroom?”

“Why? Just you and me, and there’s no one manning the cameras.” Frost tugged him gently to standing, then pushed down his sweats. “In fact, no one but our subby little Jace will be coming in to deliver food. The pool is closed. We could go without the suits.”

“Oh.” He blinked, his cock twitching to life as Frost bared it. “We could, I guess.”

“How long has it been since you had a nice long soak, baby boy?”

“Since before…”

“Well, then it seems like a good time.” Frost eased him back into his chair so he could pull off his shirt. “Pool first, then the hot tub. Our snacks should be here by then.”

“Okay, so.” He wasn’t even sure what to talk to Frost about. He didn’t know if he wanted to. Oh, who was he kidding? He wanted to. He missed Frost’s company like a sore tooth. “Are you going to be doing any smoke jumping this season? Like training?”

Frost nodded. “Probably, yeah. I can’t just stay here, and there’s only so much accounting that can possibly happen for this place.”

“You’ve always liked training. It gives you something to do.”

And he wasn’t going to worry about all the questions that he had, or the way that he desperately wanted to snarl about how it must be nice to just not stay here. Or, to be honest, think about why he was here. He could go anywhere. He could take his wheelchair and get on a plane and just disappear.

The fact was, Quentin had everything he wanted here—access, computers, privacy. His best friend. It would be stupid to just leave. Maybe Frost would let him have the shares of the Barn as a divorce present.

“You’re thinking hard, baby boy. What’s going through that head of yours?” Frost had him naked before he could blink, then lifted him out of his chair to take him to the pool steps, never letting him waver.

“I was just wondering if you were going to let me have the Barn as part of our divorce agreement.”

Frost arched one eyebrow. “Don’t be a dick, Q.”

“Well, you know. It is a thing…”

“No, it’s not. It’s not going to be a thing. You can’t have a divorce,” Frost snapped, and he blinked.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so. Because you don’t really want one. Because you know that if you did, you could make this really awkward, and you’re not.”

“I could be falling in love with Boone; you never know.”

Frost actually cracked up and almost dropped him. Okay, that was actually sort of insulting.

“What’s so funny? You think that Boone wouldn’t want me?”

“No, I honestly think that you’re not in love with Boone, Quentin, and you never have been. Boone would take you in a second, and I know it. Boone loves you dearly.”

Okay, this was not going the way that he wanted it. Everything had suddenly gone weirdly intense. He wasn’t into either weird or tense right now, so… “Jesus, Frost! Just shut up.”

“Sorry, baby boy, but I’m not going to let you tease about divorcing me. You want to tease about a lot of things, go for it. But we’re not going to tease about the divorce, and we’re not going to tease about the shooting. Here we are.” Frost eased him into the water.

“I’m the one who got shot in the head. I get to decide whether or not we tease about it.”

Frost shook his head, growling under his breath. “No. You want to joke about it, you find somebody else. I dream about it still every fucking night.”

And that was why Quentin had asked for the divorce, right there. Because it was simple. They were never going to get over this. They were never going to get past this shooting, no matter how much better he got, no matter how much he walked or didn’t walk or stood or didn’t stand.

Or wanted or didn’t want.

They were never going to get past this.

“Fine, let’s just swim.” They didn’t have to talk. Nobody said that they had to even speak to each other while they were in the pool. He could just sit there and float, and Frost could do laps and that would be that.

“Good deal. Do you need me to stay here?”

“I don’t need you to do anything. I’m good. I’ve got an amazing upper body. I can swim with no problem.” He could even kick. It was awkward and weird and stuttery and not particularly strong, but it was a thing. He could do it.