Page 15 of Waiting for a Prince (Island Tales #1)

Chapter Twelve

Sam hid in the shadows of the doorway, watching Mark as he crossed Union Street and headed along Melville Street. He waited until Mark was out of sight before following him, his chest aching.

Why did you do that?

Sam knew his reaction had been over the top—and not entirely honest—but that was better than letting Mark know the truth.

Over the top? Seriously?

He’d seized on the first words that had come into his head, and what had spewed out had been nothing but garbage. Better that than sharing what was really going on.

I hid how I felt behind a mask of outrage.

It didn’t matter that Mark’s words had lit him up on the inside—the reality of the situation extinguished that light all too quickly.

I had to do it, Mark. I couldn’t let you see.

He followed Mark at a distance, trying to be as quiet as a mouse as well as keeping an eye on his surroundings. When Mark trudged up Park Road, Sam waited until he turned right onto West Hill Road before following. He watched Mark climb steps toward a four-storey building.

Finally .

Mark disappeared from his sight, and Sam’s heart pounded.

Follow him. Talk to him. Tell him the truth.

Except Sam didn’t have the nerve for that. Not yet, at any rate.

He’d need a lot more alcohol before he was ready to do that.

Mark woke up with a start, his head pounding. Something was buzzing insistently. He glanced toward his alarm clock.

What the fuck?

It was three in the morning.

Groggily, Mark sat up in bed. There it was again. Then he realized it was his phone in the living room.

He pushed back the solitary sheet that covered his naked form and staggered out of bed. Coming home and drinking two or three glasses of whiskey had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now?

A really bad idea.

Mark groaned as the phone buzzed once more. He grabbed it, and stared at Sam’s name on the screen .

Are you kidding me?

He clicked on Answer. “Sam. It’s late.” The words slid out of his mouth unevenly.

“Mark, I’m downstairs. Lemme in.” Sam’s speech was slurred.

He froze. No fucking way . How in the hell had Sam found him?

He’d never been to the flat. Mark scrubbed a hand across his cheek, the rasp of his stubble all too loud.

“Go away, Sam.” The words sounded so weary to his ears.

He hung up, and stumbled toward his bedroom.

He wasn’t ready for more of the same, especially since it appeared Sam was even more drunk than when he’d left.

The phone’s insistent buzzing stopped him in his tracks.

Mark cursed under his breath and lurched back to the living room. He clicked on Answer once more. “I mean it, Sam. Go the hell away. You said all you needed to in the pub.”

There was no way Mark wanted to hear it again.

“Mark, please.” Something in Sam’s voice tore at him. “Don’ turn me away. I need to speak to you.” There was a pause. “Please, mate. ’S important.”

Mark hesitated, his finger hovering over the icon to end the call. He was in no fit state to have a conversation.

He sounds as if he needs you .

Mark hated that a tiny part of him remained stupidly hopeful. Sighing heavily, he pushed the door release button, then spoke into his phone. “Come on up. Second floor. It’s the flat on the right.”

“Oh, thank God.” The note of relief in Sam’s voice was unmistakable.

Mark staggered into his bedroom and snatched his robe from its hook on the back of the door. He slipped into it swiftly, tugging it around him and tying it tightly. He went to the door, unbolted it and pulled it open. Sam had just reached the top stair. He held onto the rail, panting.

“Get in here, quickly.” Mark grabbed hold of Sam’s arm and hauled him into the flat.

He pushed the door closed as quietly as he could.

Ron across the hall worked on the rubbish bins and always got up at the crack of dawn.

It wouldn’t do to piss off his neighbours.

Once Sam was inside, Mark locked and bolted the door as silently as possible.

Sam leaned back against the wall of the small hallway, as if the wall was propping him up.

“Come into the living room,” Mark told him and led him into the long room which contained his living room at one end and kitchen at the other. He pointed toward the long sofa. “Sit.” He switched on the small table lamp that stood next to it.

Sam flopped down onto the sofa, his head lolling back against the seat cushions. He closed his eyes.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Mark shook him roughly by the arm. When Sam opened his eyes, Mark fixed him with an intense look. “What do you want, Sam?”

Sam stared up at him with such a look of abject misery that Mark caught his breath.

“Need to talk to you,” he slurred.

Mark frowned. “Did you find somewhere else to drink after you left the pub?” Sam’s head bobbed once. That gave rise to another question. “Sam, how did you find me?”

“Waited in a doorway ’til you left,” he confessed.

“I hid when you came out so’s you wouldn’t see me.

Followed you home. Thought ’bout ringin’ the bell, but didn’t have the nerve.

” He gulped. “Then I went to the off license and bought a bottle o’ Scotch.

” Sam closed his eyes. “I sat on the beach at the end of your road, drinkin’, ’til I couldn’t stand it anymore. ” He choked out the words.

The haunted look in Sam’s eyes, his quivering chin, the tremors that rippled through him…

This guy is a mess.

Mark longed to touch him, to comfort him, but the memory of Sam’s coldly delivered speech was still too raw. “You’re in no state to talk,” Mark said gently. “I think you should go.” He winced as his head throbbed.

“Please!” The word burst from Sam’s lips. “Don’ make me go!” To Mark’s dismay, two fat tears slid from beneath Sam’s eyelids, rolling down his cheeks. “I don’ wanna go home.”

The words tugged at Mark’s heart. “Oh, Sam.” Those piercing blue eyes held the threat of more tears. There was no trace of the man who had left him alone in the pub.

He came to a decision. “Look, why don’t I make us some coffee, and then you can crash on my sofa for what’s left of the night. We can talk in the morning when we’re both a little less the worse for wear.”

To his relief, Sam nodded, and Mark went to make some coffee, looking around every now and then to keep an eye on his guest. Sam rested his head against the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, the rise and fall of his chest now more even.

Mark left the coffee black and brought the two mugs over to the coffee table.

He handed one to Sam and then sat down beside him, gazing at his own mug in silence.

There were no sounds at all from the building.

“’M sorry.”

Mark gave a slight start. He turned to Sam to find him gazing at him, his eyes large and round.

Mark didn’t know what to say. He struggled to find words.

“Let’s leave the talking for the morning, all right?

” He spoke quietly, for the sake of both their heads.

Sam bobbed his head once more and sipped his coffee.

Mark got up and went into his bathroom to fetch a clean sheet from the airing cupboard above the boiler.

Then he went into his bedroom and opened the wardrobe to pull out a spare pillow.

When he got back to the living room, Sam’s eyes were closed, his breathing even, his mug balanced precariously on his lap.

Mark put down the bedding and gently disengaged Sam’s hands from around the mug, before setting it on the table.

He placed the pillow at one end of the sofa and eased Sam into a horizontal position, his head resting on the pillow.

Mark tugged off Sam’s trainers and socks, then spread out the sheet over him.

“Thanks.” The whispered word pierced the quietness of the room.

Mark smiled. He looked down at Sam’s face, his forehead creased.

“Get some sleep.” Sam stirred, small noises escaping from his lips.

“I’ll be across the hall if you need me.

” Straightening, he went into the kitchen and filled a glass with cold water.

He placed it within reach on the coffee table and clicked off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

Mark slipped off his robe and slid naked under the cool cotton sheet.

He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

His thoughts were fixed on the man sleeping in the room across from him.

He didn’t understand what was so important that Sam would go to such lengths to find him, especially after the way he’d reacted in the pub.

Let’s hope everything becomes clearer in the morning.

Mark closed his eyes and tried to ignore the ache across them.

It was a long while before sleep took him.