Stranger on the Shore - lanyon Josh. Страница 61

Badly.

When he left the hospital, he got in his car and started driving. He got as far as Roslyn Heights. And then he pulled into the driveway of a Persian restaurant and spent the next half hour counting the raindrops on his windshield. Not the best weather for a long drive. Especially when he was this tired and distracted.

It was already after four o’clock in the afternoon. The day was...he really couldn’t think about the day he’d had.

He didn’t know where to go. Should he get a room in a hotel? Should he just keep driving?

He felt so...disconnected.

His phone rang a couple of times and he ignored it. Then he realized that it might be Pierce. He found his phone and it rang again. Pierce’s number flashed up.

“Hello?” he said cautiously.

“Where are you?” Pierce sounded so normal, so ordinary, that Griff found himself clutching the phone like a lifeline. “Griff?”

Griff peered through his rain-spattered windshield and read the name of the restaurant sign to Pierce.

“Okay. I’m coming to get you,” Pierce said.

He sounded perfectly calm, and something panicked and angry inside Griff quieted. He said, “I’m going to go inside and have something to eat.”

“That’s a good idea,” Pierce said. And then, “I’m on my way.”

I’m on my way. Pierce had said that to him once before. When Griff had woken in the middle of nowhere—which was a bit how he felt now.

He went inside the restaurant and had soup. It was hot and spicy with flat noodles, and he felt a lot better after the first few swallows. He ordered a beer called Pars Persian Style, which was all right. An amber lager with a hint of bitterness. He was swallowing the last mouthful when Pierce walked in the door.

Griff’s heart jumped. Was there ever a time his heart would not leap at the sight of Pierce? It was really just sad, wasn’t it? Could you really fall in love with someone at first sight?

Pierce, tall and handsome in his rain-spotted trench coat, made his way across the mostly empty restaurant and sat down across the linen-covered table. He carried the scent of the rain and that familiar spicy cologne. His eyes were the shade of bitter ale in his very pale face.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Pierce’s eyes flickered. He said, “You talked to Jarrett?”

“Yeah.”

Of course Pierce already knew that. Pierce knew everything. No need for Pierce to look that way, so worried and grave. Like he’d failed to adequately prepare his case for trial. “He’s going to recover. He’s still good for years.”

“That’s great.” Griff added, “I don’t want him changing his will. I don’t want that money.”

“Nobody will do anything you don’t want.”

Griff snorted. “Really? That will be a first.”

Pierce winced. “Bri—”

“Don’t.” Griff shook his head. “I can’t—I’m not ready to be Brian yet.”

“All right.” Pierce was using that gentle tone again. His gaze was intent, never leaving Griff’s face.

“It’s too much all at once.”

“I know.”

“No,” Griff said. “You don’t.”

Pierce let out a breath. “No, I don’t. But I understand that it’s a lot to work through. I understand that it’s going to take you some time. And that’s okay. You’ve got time.”

“I feel like there’s this pressure for me to be Brian, and I don’t even know who Brian is.”

“That’s going to be up to you.”

“Yeah.” Griff nodded, not looking at Pierce. He said, “I’m going to go back to Wisconsin.” He did look at Pierce then, waiting to see how Pierce took it.

A muscle moved in Pierce’s cheek. He said, “Griff, the only thing people really want is for you to be happy.”

Well, that was a nice thought, but they both knew that wasn’t exactly true. Partly true, sure.

“I think that money should be split up like Jarrett planned and then eventually the house can be opened to the public or turned into a library or something.”

Pierce nodded. He seemed to consider and discard a number of replies before he said neutrally, “You better wait to break that news to Jarrett.”

Griff nodded too.

The waiter approached them and asked if they wanted anything more.

“I think that’s everything,” Griff said.

Pierce said nothing, not a word, as Griff paid the bill. They walked out to the parking lot. It was raining hard now. The drops hitting the asphalt were as hard and shiny as ball bearings. They stung Griff’s face, his eyes. Or maybe that was something else stinging his eyes.

“Griff.”

“Goodbye, Pierce.” He had to force himself to meet Pierce’s eyes. And it was a shock because Pierce was struggling to keep his mouth steady. His eyes were wet—though maybe that was the rain again.

“Griff.”

Griff turned away and walked to his car. Pierce walked with him, which was somewhat anticlimactic. Griff tried to get his key in the door lock and Pierce put his hand over his.

Pierce said, “I love you.”

Griff looked up, glaring. “No you don’t. You lied to me. Like everybody else.” Now he didn’t care that the tears were coming, coming fast, mingling with the rain. “You lied to me and you tricked me and you used me. Like everyone else.”

He should have fought when Pierce pulled him into his arms. He should have punched him in his arrogant, aristocratic nose. But he let Pierce wrap his arms around him. He leaned into Pierce, and he cried.

“I do love you,” Pierce said. His breath was warm and the whispered words were rock steady. “You know I love you. I’ve loved you your entire life. Since you were an annoying little twerp. And I’ve been in love with you for the past week.” His arms fastened tighter around Griff’s shoulders. “And I know you love me.”

Griff shook his head denying this, but who was he kidding? Of course he loved Pierce. He really had loved Pierce his entire life.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Pierce said. His voice got choky as he said, “I’m sorry I let you down again.”

Again. No. That was Pierce feeling guilty about the past, and if they were going to build any kind of future, they had to put that behind them once and for all.

Griff shook his head. “No. Don’t.” He raised his head.

Pierce’s face twisted. “If I could undo any part of it—”

“I know.” He did know. And now he was the one comforting Pierce. Which actually helped a little.

They held each other while the rain came down in sheets, and finally Pierce looked up as though he’d only noticed they were being drowned. He scrubbed his face, kissed Griff’s mouth, and said, “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Later, much later, when they were warm and dry and comfortably wrapped in each other’s arms, cocooned in the vast and as yet mostly uncharted latitude and longitude of Pierce’s bed, Pierce asked, “How much do you remember?”

“It’s coming back. In bits and pieces.” Maybe he had begun to remember that very first day. So many things had unsettled him. He really had feared he was losing his mind. He couldn’t help a wrench of anguish when he thought of the years, years he had believed he was too small for his age, too slow, too immature. If he wasn’t crazy it was a miracle.

He didn’t say a word and yet somehow Pierce seemed to know. He kissed his mouth, rubbed his face against Griff’s, kissed him again.

“It’s going to take time, that’s all.”

Griff nodded.

“No one’s going to push you. No one’s going to pressure you.” Pierce sounded a little grim, talking to himself, preparing for future battles, and Griff settled his head more comfortably on Pierce’s chest and left him to it.

Pierce suddenly laughed. Griff, on the verge of sleep, stirred and smiled. “Mmm?”

Pierce kissed the top of his head.

“What’s funny?”

There was still a quiver of a laugh in Pierce’s voice as he said, “I just want to be there to see your expression the first time you see your new tax bill.”