Capture & Surrender (Market Garden, #5)(61)

He put his elbows on the desk, ran his hands through his hair. The rasp reminded him of Brandon’s fingers on his scalp, which didn’t help at all.

Being alone wasn’t so bad. He’d managed before. He had friends who’d stand by him. Things to occupy his time. Market Garden, staying healthy. Exercise. After Andrew, that was it. Most people were lucky to find love once. Twice? Once was a lot. He could cope. There was more to life than sex.

He wiped over his face and shook his head, trying to psych himself up, to take all the invisible weight he’d shed in the last few weeks back onto his shoulders. It was a blessing not to have to carry that for a while, but now that rest period was over, and he should just get on with it.

It’s a good look on you.

Damn you, Geoff, so I was happy there for a while.

Frank resisted the urge to go get another drink and instead forced himself to focus on paperwork. Even the minute shit he didn’t need to worry about—bills that weren’t due for a couple of weeks, the liquor order that could wait until tomorrow—was, though tedious, better than staring at the door and waiting for Brandon to show up. For all he knew, Brandon wouldn’t even be back in this evening. Could be a late night with the john, and by the time Brandon swung by, exhausted and bleary-eyed, to drop off the money, Frank would already be home and asleep. Well, in bed and staring at the ceiling, but probably not asleep. He didn’t see that happening any time soon.

A light knock at the door made Frank jump, and sent a couple pages of invoices fluttering to the floor. He leaned down to pick them up. “It’s open.”

Brandon. No, Stefan.

He closed the door behind him. “Raoul said you wanted to see me?”

Frank nodded. He stacked the papers into some semblance of neatness, if only to occupy his hands. “Have a seat.”

Brandon hesitated. “Is, um, something wrong?”

Everything, Brandon. “We need to talk about a few things.”

Brandon took a cautious step towards the vacant chair. “We as in you and Brandon? Or you and Stefan?”

Frank locked eyes with him, which took a hell of a lot more effort than it should have. “Brandon.”

“Oh.” Brandon gulped. Then he lowered himself into the chair, the slow motion fraught with tension and uncertainty. He folded his hands in his lap, across those trademark camo trousers. “So, um. What’s up?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking. About us. Our situation.” Frank paused, chewing the inside of his cheek. The sick feeling from earlier was still there in his gut, getting worse by the second, and his heart pounded as he tried to articulate his feelings. “I’m—”

“Frank.” Brandon’s voice was gentle, but firm. “Just say it. I don’t need it to be sugar-coated.”

Maybe you don’t.

Frank swallowed. “Bottom line, you and I both know the reality of this disease. We both know what’s . . . inevitable.”

Brandon winced, lowering his gaze.

“And we both also know what it’s like to watch someone go through the, um, final stages.”

“More or less,” Brandon said softly, and this time it was Frank who winced.

“You know I’d go out of my way to not hurt you, right?”

Brandon’s head snapped up, and his eyes were wide. “I . . . yeah, I do.” The sudden panic in his voice was palpable; Frank thought he could even feel Brandon’s heartbeat in the air around them.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” I don’t, I don’t, I don’t. “And I can’t put you through that same hell again. I’d rather let you go and let you move—”

“No!” Brandon shook his head. “You’re . . . you don’t want to hurt me, so you’re going to push me away?”

“If that’s what I have to do to keep you from—”

“I don’t need you to make those decisions for me.” Fury charged in to replace the initial panic on Brandon’s face. “I’m younger than you, but I’m a goddamned adult.”

“I know.” Frank made a “calm down” gesture with both hands. “I’m not making this decision for you. I’m making it for . . . well, both of us, I guess. I can’t put you through what I went through.”

Brandon stared at him, eyes locked on Frank’s. “So that’s it? You were fine with it up until today, and now that I’ve had time to start feeling this strongly about you, you can’t handle it?”

This strongly? What?

“Brandon, I—”

“Fine. Whatever.” Brandon jumped to his feet. “I’ve had enough of people making decisions about what I go through and who I’m around. I don’t need you adding to it.”

Before Frank could stop him, Brandon stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Now that I’ve had time to feel this strongly about you.

Sinking back into his chair, he let the words echo through his mind a few times. Each time, the undercurrent of pain was louder than the fury, and hit Frank even harder in the chest. He had to do it. He had to hurt him this time. Brandon would get over this and move on. Shake it off and recover faster and more completely than he would if he stuck around to the end. It was some short-term pain to keep him out of long-term hell.