Remember My Name Page 11

  “Because I’m fresh out of the academy and you’d be breaking the law.”

  He gasped as if someone had punched him in the chest. It didn’t seem real. How could his best friend be a cop and he knew nothing about it?

  Thinking back on any time they’d spent together recently, it had been building to this. Troy had made comments – Shane had picked up on the hints – but he couldn’t have imagined that this would be the outcome.

  “Fuck you.” Swallowing hard, he shook his head. “You’re lying.”

  Troy clenched his jaw, his gaze unfaltering. “I’m not lying. I’m an officer of the Westbourne, Michigan police department.”

  Shane had to rub his chest because it suddenly felt very tight. “Why the fuck would you do that to me?”

  “Because it’s not all about you, Shane!” Heaving a sigh, Troy smoothed both hands over his face before letting them fall to his sides. “This is my life and I don’t need your approval to live it the way I want to.”

  That was true. It didn’t mean that it didn’t sting. Shane had never thought that Troy would do something to end their friendship. If anything, Shane had thought that he would be the one to push Troy too far. That was an outcome he’d always been prepared for. This was not. “You know how I feel about cops. I can’t be friends with a cop.”

  “That’s fine.” Troy’s nostrils flared and there were tears in his eyes. “You weren’t a very good friend anyway.”

  The boiling in his blood was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he didn’t like it. His hands were balled into fists, his breathing heavy with the effort of not throwing a punch.

  This was a line he’d been struggling not to cross for years. Once there was physical violence in a relationship, there was no going back.

  But this was a betrayal. Troy had done something unforgivable and he was just trying to catch up. Not willing to give himself time to calm down or reconsider what he was about to do, Shane’s fist collided with his friend’s face with such force that it knocked him down.

  The look of shock on his face made Shane’s cheeks flush red, instantly feeling deep shame. Yet, his anger would not subside, and it only fueled Troy’s.

  Shane was knocked to the ground and the two of them rolled around, trying to get the upper hand. Both landed punches and he could feel his skin splitting, first on his eyebrow and then his lip. It was only when blood poured from his nose that he held up his hands.

  “Truce!”

  Breath heavy, arm still held back to hit Shane again, Troy’s gaze wandered over his face. “Why are you bleeding so much?”

  “I’m on blood thinners,” he answered breathlessly.

  “What the fuck?” Quickly getting to his feet, he held out his hand to help Shane up. “Why would you start a fight when you’re on blood thinners? Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Swatting Troy away, he stood up but immediately doubled over, pressing a sleeve to his nose. “We’ve got to...we need to go.”

  “Fuck, come on.”

  Forcing Shane’s arm around his neck for support, Troy helped him into the back seat of his car. He put the key into the ignition and drove off as fast as he could.

  “I’m getting blood everywhere,” Shane mumbled.

  “I don’t care, you idiot! Just don’t die, alright?”

  “Depends on how fast you drive.”

  He tried to stay awake as his eyes rolled back. His limbs were getting heavier by the minute. There were voices around him – more than just Troy’s now, but everything was a blur and he couldn’t make out the questions they were asking him, let alone answer them.

  When his eyes opened again, he was in a bed with two IVs in his arm. He scrunched his nose, the taste of copper still fresh on his tongue.

  Looking down, he noticed that he’d been changed out of his clothes and into a hospital gown. His nostrils flared, fists clenched as it occurred to him that Troy might have seen the marks on his skin, the ones he’d been hiding for years.

  When his former best-friend pulled back the curtain and stood by his bedside, he looked almost as bad as Shane felt – eyes red and puffy, skin eerily pale.

  “Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d been the one bleeding out.”

  Troy rolled his eyes. “Glad to see you didn’t lose your sense of humor.”

  “That’s in my head, not my veins.”

  Silence fell between them. Shane’s gaze didn’t waver, but Troy’s did.

  “I’m not pressing charges, Shane.”

  “I guess that makes you a saint.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t get a pass for being an asshole just because you almost died.”

  “And you don’t get a pass for being one just because you’re a cop.”

  With a scoff, Troy folded his arms. “Friends don’t keep secrets, Shane.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re not friends anymore.”

  He opened his mouth and then closed it. His jaw was clenched for what seemed like half an hour before he spoke. “Have a nice life.”

  Another slide of the curtain and Troy was gone. He swallowed hard, allowing that to sink in. Shane hadn’t wanted their friendship to end. This wasn’t how he’d wanted Troy to find out that he was unhealthy. If he really thought about it, he could convince himself that it was better this way. One less person he had to keep secrets from.

  He had half a mind to rip out the IVs and go home, but he could hardly move and his body wouldn’t stop shaking.

  “Mister Coulter,” came the disapproving voice of a doctor. “Back again, I see.”

  Shane heaved a sigh, mostly because he was annoyed with the man’s tone. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not happy to see your favorite masochist.”

  “You’re lucky your friend got you here so quickly. I don’t know what possessed you to pick a fight in your condition.”

  “How do you know I started it?”

  “You said so yourself. You’re a masochist.”

  “Don’t act like you know anything about me, doc. All you know is what’s on your fuckin’ chart.”

  Making a few notes on the clipboard, he stepped closer to the curtain. “As long as you’re feeling better tomorrow, you’ll be discharged in the morning.”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  He knew that he wouldn’t be getting much sleep, not with the nurses who would be coming in and out, making sure he was still alive. As soon as the doctor left, Shane closed his eyes, his body still shaking under the blanket. All he wanted to do was rest. But he hadn’t been able to do that in years.

  Hearing the curtain pull back again, he opened his mouth to give the doctor an earful, except it wasn’t who he’d been expecting.

  “Cal?”

  “Jesus, Shane.” Leaning over the bed, he gently kissed his forehead. “You look like death warmed over.”

  “Wow, thanks for sugarcoating it.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “Is it okay if I don’t want to talk about it?”

  Pulling back, Callan gave him a stern look. “From what I heard, you’re lucky to be alive.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Troy did. He’s the one who called me.”

  “Mmm.” Sighing softly, he nuzzled Cal’s nose. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t know about that. I might scare you off.”

  “Never.” Callan kissed him softly. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Looking back at the chair beside the bed, and then back at Shane – who was shivering – he pursed his lips. “Do you think there’s room for me in the bed? That chair looks really uncomfortable.”

  Shane stared at him for a moment. Callan must have known that he wasn’t going to ask for help even if he needed it, but the extra body heat would make him feel a little better. “I think I can make room.”

  After he
moved over, Cal kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed, carefully curling his body against Shane’s as if he might break him. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No.” Pressing his back against Callan’s chest, he took a deep breath. The shaking lessened within minutes. And while he’d never admit it, the man’s presence was incredibly comforting. He needed that more than he could ever say. “Th-thank you.”

  Smiling softly, he kissed the back of Shane’s neck. “I love you too.”

  Holding him a little tighter, Cal’s nose grazed the top of Shane’s spine. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, too concerned about his lover’s body language. Shaking, groaning, whimpering – and Cal had tried to soothe the sleeping man through it all.

  The curly-haired brunette shifted toward him, cheeks wet with tears. Cal pressed a kiss to his forehead before wiping Shane’s cheek with his thumb, prompting him to open his eyes.

  “What are you doing?” he asked in a groggy voice.

  “You were crying in your sleep.”

  “Must be whatever they gave me.”

  Cal wiped the remainder of Shane’s tears with his sleeve. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Just tired.”

  “I know. You didn’t even stir when the nurses came in.”

  “Did they say I could leave?”

  “Yeah, if you feel up to it.”

  Having woken up free of IVs, Shane climbed out of bed.

  Clicking his tongue, Cal sat up. “Shane, please be careful, if you start to bleed again-”

  “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He leaned back to pat Callan’s leg. “If I wasn’t okay, I wouldn’t be able to move.”

  Knowing that nothing he said would be taken to heart, he sighed in defeat. “At least let me help you get dressed.”

  “Nope.”

  Cal begrudgingly handed Shane his blood-stained clothing and watched him disappear into the bathroom. He approached the door, listening for sounds of a stumble or fall.

  “It’s really unsanitary to put those back on, you know.”

  “Whatever,” came his muffled reply. “Almost done.”

  “Why won’t you let me see you?”

  “Because it’s ugly.”

  “What, your body?”

  “Yes.”

  His breath hitched in his throat, hand gently pressed against the door as if Shane could feel him. “That’s not true. Every part I’ve seen is beautiful.”

  He opened the door, shaking his head. “Trust me, it isn’t.”

  “What is it that you’re hiding then? A birthmark?”

  “Scars.” His gaze fell, jaw clenched. “Lots of them.”

  Furrowing his brow, Cal gently rubbed Shane’s arm. “Are they self-inflicted?”

  “Yes. They’re bad.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, cheeks flushing red. “Really bad.”

  “Come here.” Cal pulled him into a gentle embrace. It pained him to think that Shane was concerned about his reaction to such a thing. He’d failed to make the man he loved feel safe, and there was no worse feeling than that. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. But you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

  “I’m just not...I don’t...” He took a deep breath. “I’m fucked up. I don’t deserve good things.”

  “That couldn’t be further from the truth. Is that why you won’t let me make love to you, because you don’t think you deserve it?”

  “That’s one of the reasons.”

  “But wouldn’t that feel better than what we normally do? What if your skin breaks somehow and you start bleeding, and-”

  “It hasn’t, and it won’t. We’ve been careful.”

  Callan pulled back to gaze at him. “I’ve seen some of the bruises that you’ve had as a result. You try to keep your skin covered, but I see them sometimes.” Eyes filling with tears, his voice broke when he said, “I don’t like knowing that I’ve done that to you.”

  “You’re not hurting me, Cal. I like it rough, okay? I just bruise easily.” Shane placed his hands on Callan’s chest. “If you were really hurting me, you’d know. I would tell you.”

  “I just want to be soft, and gentle, and loving with you.” He shook his head. “Why won’t you let me? Help me understand.”

  Rolling his eyes, Shane returned to the side of the bed, gathering his belongings. “I already told you, it’s over-stimulation.”

  His tone was an indication that Callan was pushing the boundary. It was something he’d struggled with since their reunion, but there was only so much he could ignore. “Is it because of how you’ve hurt yourself in the past?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Heaving a sigh, he set the hospital bag on the bed. “Look, I don’t really know. It is what it is.”

  Pursing his lips, Cal folded his arms. “Why do you hate being comfortable?”

  “Because if I’m comfortable, bad things could happen.”

  He paused, gaze wandering over the blood-stained clothing on his boyfriend. It seemed like an odd sentiment to have without knowing where it had come from. With so many secrets between them, it seemed like they were oceans apart. “You don’t know that.”

  Shane shot him a look. “Neither do you.”

  When he opened the door, he furrowed his brow, having expected a much larger crowd. Instead, it was just Ethan.

  “Where’s Nora and the kids?”

  “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

  “Overwhelm me?” Shane closed the door, then narrowed his gaze while facing his brother. “Who told you, hmm? Was it Callan?”

  “No, it was Troy.”

  Rolling his eyes, he folded his arms. “Figures. But, as you can see, I’m fine.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Are you saying I look like shit or something?”

  Ethan swallowed hard. “I think we should talk.”

  “Uh-oh. Are you breaking up with me?”

  “Man, I’m being serious.”

  “Okay.” Raising his hands defensively, he walked to the couch and gestured for Ethan to sit down. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “You have to cool it with the attitude. Sometimes it’s funny, but you’re at an age when you need to start growing up. You shouldn’t talk to people the way you do.”

  Oh, so it was going to be that kind of talk. “I’m an adult. I can do and say whatever I want and I don’t have to answer to you.”

  He threw his hands in the air. “This is what I mean. You’re walking around with this teenage angst, except you’re not a teenager anymore, Shane. You’re so goddamn moody all the time. No matter what I say, there’s a smartass reply soon to follow.”

  “I’m not going to change for you. Or for anyone.” He scoffed and shook his head. “I love my niece and nephew, and they’re the only people who will be spared from my snark. They’re children. They’re innocent.” Shane paused, lowering his gaze. “They don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

  “Oh, but I do?”

  “You can handle it.”

  Ethan wore an incredulous expression. “It’s ridiculous that you somehow think that makes it okay. You can’t justify your shitty behavior that way.”

  He shrugged, gaze lifting to his brother, who was still standing. “Sure I can.”

  “Look, my kids are getting older. Nora’s seen and heard enough that it makes her...cautious.” Heaving a sigh, he took a step toward the couch. “She doesn’t want any bad influences around our kids and neither do I.”

  “I already told you that I’m perfectly capable of controlling myself around my niece and nephew.”

  “You can see how that might be difficult for us to believe.”

  “So what are you saying?” He furrowed his brow. “That if I don’t knock it off, you won’t let me see the kids anymore?”

  “We don’t want to do that.” Ethan’s voice softened. “But we do want our kids to have good role models.”

  Shane swallowed hard, his nostrils flaring. “Why the fuck did you come back here
then?”

  “We didn’t come back to be subjected to your bullshit, I can tell you that.”

  “My bullshit. That you left me to stew in for five years.”

  “Is that why you’re acting this way? Revenge?” Ethan sighed exasperatedly. “Adults talk through these things; they don’t treat each other like crap out of spite.”

  “This isn’t spite, this is who I am. And just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” Getting up from the couch, Shane walked right past his brother and opened the apartment door. “I like who I am, it’s not my problem if you don’t.”

  Ethan stared at him for a moment. Shane stared back, but his gaze was much harder. Eventually, the elder brother’s jaw clenched, and he walked out, leaving the younger one to hide his tears behind the closed door.

  Shane unloaded one box of crystals after another, gaze flicking to Peter behind the desk every few minutes. He looked worse than Shane felt, like he was coming off a bender. Once or twice, Shane had seen him in such a state before and typically ignored it – Peter was an adult and he could handle it. But today, he couldn’t ignore it.

  “You don’t look so good.”

  Peter raised his brow. “Neither do you.”

  “Whatever.” Taking a deep breath, he went back to unpacking the boxes.

  “I’m serious. You’re more pale than usual. Moodier too, if that’s even possible.”

  “What do you care?”

  “Hey.” Walking out from the desk, he approached Shane. “I care.”

  Gaze wandering over him, he shook his head. He didn’t like that the subject of conversation had turned to him, so he attempted to avoid it by moving on to the next shelf. “What’s your deal?”

  “My deal?”

  “Don’t make fun of the way I speak, I’m not in the mood.” Licking his lips, he looked over the shelf to make eye contact with his boss. “You own a business you don’t care about, you have the reputation of a twenty year old playboy, and all of this sudden, you give a shit about me.”

  “I’ve never not given a shit.”

  “Fine. But you don’t get to do this anymore.”

  “Do what?”

  “Go back and forth between being professional and personal.”

  “Isn’t that what you do, Shane?” He walked around the shelf so that there were no obstacles between them. “You set boundaries. Everyone has to play by your rules. Guess it’s not fun to be on the receiving end, is it?”