Boyfriend Chronicles 02 - The Boyfriend Mandate (23 page)

“When did you finally learn to climb?” Memphis asked.

“My senior year of college,” he said. “After you left, I had a lot of time to fill.”

The matter-of-fact, easy tone did nothing to keep the regret from swelling in Memphis’s gut again, and he rubbed the aching muscles in his neck, wishing he could wipe away the feeling, once and for all.

Tyler opened the lid to a water bottle and took a sip. “What triggered this intense need to throw yourself off of buildings and blow stuff up?”

A laugh broke from Memphis’s throat. Of all the things they had left to discuss, this one felt self-explanatory. He turned his head, resting his cheek against his arm to get a better view. He studied Tyler’s black hair where it curled slightly just above the neck of his T-shirt, the rim damp with sweat, and decided to let their bigger issues go.

For now.

“I have the loss of Lefty to thank for my success,” Memphis said.

“Lefty?”

“My second testicle. After the removal of my last nad I…uh…” He struggled to come up with an appropriate explanation. “I went bat-shit crazy for a while.” He chuckled. “Back then, my parents thought I was unconsciously trying to end it all.”

A pause filled with the sound of the wind across the rocks. Tyler shifted his gaze to the gray, choppy water for a moment before returning his focus to Memphis.

“
Were
you trying to kill yourself?” Tyler asked.

Ah, Dr. Hall was continuing to assess his patient. Damn, that wasn’t the kind of attention Memphis wanted from the guy. He didn’t want a concerned professional. He wanted…more. Exactly what, he wasn’t sure.

But definitely more.

“Hell, no. I wasn’t trying to off myself,” he said. “But I became driven to learn every extreme sport out there, skydiving and hang gliding, just to name a few. Anything for an adrenaline rush with a sphincter factor of ten.”

“Sphincter factor? That brings several sex jokes to mind.”

Memphis laughed and closed his eyes, enjoying the intermittent sun on his face and the company.

“I’m not too proud to admit I went off the deep end for a while,” Memphis went on, “convinced I was just one round of PMS away from becoming a woman. As if everything that made me a man had been housed in my nuts.” He let out a scoff. “To this day, every time someone tells me I have balls of steel, I have the overwhelming urge to point out that mine are actually artificial sacs of saline.” He slowly let out a breath, not really wanting to remember the bad times. “Seeking out the crazy made me feel better.”

Tyler looked down at him. There wasn’t much in the way of a change in his expression, but the softening of that gray gaze was detectable.

“BASE jumping became my favorite,” Memphis said.

“Why do I get the feeling you enjoy the illegal aspect of the activity the most?”

He could almost hear the eye-roll in Tyler’s tone, and Memphis bit back the grin. “Maybe because nothing screams ‘I’m a real boy’ more than a blatant disregard for the law.”

Tyler puffed out a breath—a sound Memphis had come to realize was a subdued version of a laugh—before sending one of those assessing looks that seemed to see right through him.

“A lot of men would prove their manhood by fucking everything that moves,” Tyler said.

Was there a hidden question buried here? Memphis wasn’t sure. They hadn’t discussed Julissa much, and he couldn’t tell if the statement had anything to do with her or not.

“The fuck and chuck method has never been my style,” Memphis said.

“So, instead, you decided to stand close to things that go
boom
?”

“Funny, that,” he said, turning his head to stare up at the sky again. “No matter how many times you flirt with getting arrested or dodge explosions”—he gave a self-derisive grunt—“the sport doesn’t spontaneously generate a pair of
cojones
.”

“Go figure.”

Memphis smiled. God, he enjoyed Sarcastic Tyler.

“Not that I let that stop me from trying,” Memphis said.

Tyler stretched out on his side, and Memphis took a moment to enjoy the view. His narrow torso was trim, and, while he didn’t have a rippling six-pack, the well-defined muscles of his chest perked Memphis’s cock right up. And any stirring of his cock was
always
welcome.

Sadly, he now realized just how much he’d been missing out on all those years ago. They’d had a fantastic sex life, but they’d each fallen into a role: Memphis, top, and Tyler, bottom. Mostly because Memphis had arrogantly assumed the positions actually had
meaning
. But Tyler had recently provided him with a second come-to-Jesus moment. With one completely mind-blowing encounter in an elevator, Tyler had proved that the not-so-mythical p-spot for men worked wonders for Memphis, too.

Holy hell, he’d been so stupid way back when.

Tyler drank another sip of water and then offered the container to Memphis. “How did you turn all of these activities into a career?”

He took the bottle, struggling to put away the dirty thoughts. “A BASE jump landed me my first job,” he said. “Remember Hal, the stunt coordinator on the set that day at the pier?” he asked, and then he took a drink from the water bottle, a drop landing on his bare chest.

When he absently swiped at the spot, he caught Tyler watching the motion with a dark look, and a thrill shot through him.

Memphis forced himself to focus. “One day I decided to do a BASE jump off of a radio tower outside of LA. Hal caught my descent and tried to chase me down.” Memphis grinned at the memory. “But I was too busy escaping from the cop who’d spotted me. Hal had to get my name and number from a buddy who’d come to watch. Hal called that night and asked if I could do a jump for him the next day, and I did.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He handed Tyler the water back. “Fortunately, Hal decided he liked me and wanted to teach me everything he knew.” He lifted one shoulder and then let it fall. “And I decided it was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

Tyler let out a sound that could have meant anything. He tossed Memphis a power bar and returned his gaze to the ocean stretched before them. Memphis wondered if maybe the man really did just see him as a quasi patient he felt responsible for taking care of.

“Is that why you hauled your ass up this rock to find me?” Memphis asked with a wry grin. “To make sure I’m not trying to end it all and bring me a power bar?”

A breeze kicked up, shifting the hair at Tyler’s neck.

When he finally spoke, Tyler’s words were at odds with the easy delivery. “The first year after you left, a part of me hated you.”

An
oh, fuck
and an
about freaking time
shouted in Memphis’s head. He swiped a palm down his face—shit, his hand didn’t feel entirely steady—to prepare himself before meeting Tyler’s level gaze.

He’d kinda hoped to have done this sooner, mostly just to get the moment over with. Not that it made hearing the words now any easier. And as much as he’d enjoyed the hot, angry sex, there had to be a better way to get that elusive closure he needed before he had to return to LA.

“Up until yesterday, I guess that part of me still did,” Tyler continued. “Hate you, that is.” He sent him a rueful smile. “I thought I’d done the mature thing and moved on, but…” He let out a small scoff that was clearly self-directed. And then he shrugged, the tiny gesture full of uncertainty. “I don’t know.”

A wave crashed loudly somewhere below, and Tyler picked up a small pebble nearby and tossed it over the edge.

“Maybe I couldn’t have handled your illness,” Tyler said, avoiding his gaze. “But you gave me no say in the matter, Memphis. You took away my choice.” His words grew harsh and more rushed. “
Judas Priest
, I hate that you did that to me. And I spent
years
wondering why you left and what I’d done to make you leave because I―”

He sucked in a sharp, chopped-off breath and seemed to gather himself. And, Jesus, Memphis really wanted to slow down the freaking rapid rate of his own breathing.

Memphis cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. “You’ve given this a lot of thought,” he said, trying for sarcasm and failing.

Miserably.

“Obviously.” Tyler’s small smile was more sad than amused, cutting Memphis to the core. “Especially over the past two days, and last night…” He paused before going on. “But I think you did the best you could under some really terrible circumstances, just like my birth mom.”

He trained his gray eyes back on Memphis, and he felt the look all the way to the transplanted marrow of his bones.

“The recurrence was a shit thing to happen to you,” Tyler said. “And you leaving the way you did was a shit thing to happen to
me
. But the bottom line is, it’s way past time we both let the issue go.” He blinked once before going on. “You’ve already apologized. I’m ready to accept. So…consider yourself forgiven.”

Well…damn.

Mouth parted, Memphis froze, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop turning. The words
consider yourself forgiven
enveloped him. His body relaxed, his tensed muscles slowly growing lax.

It felt as though he’d been holding his breath for ten years and could finally breathe again.

But Tyler? Despite the topic, now that the words were out, he had the same calm focus he’d had while dealing with the moody teen, Patrick. Memphis wasn’t much on meditation or relaxation techniques or whatever the hell Tyler was in to, but he envied the man’s ability to remain so centered, for lack of a better term.

Except for yesterday. Yesterday had been a stellar exception.

They stared at each other until the moment became too much, and the sudden need to learn everything about Tyler drove Memphis to speak.

“I’d like to watch you in action,” he said.

Tyler hesitated a moment. “I thought you already had.”

“No.” A breathy chuckle escaped. “I’m not talking about sex.”

For a moment, the man appeared confused, and the look on his face held hints of the Tyler from ten years ago and was nothing short of adorable.

“Then watch me do
what
?” Tyler asked.

Memphis turned onto his side and propped his elbow on the rock, resting his head on his palm. “At work,” he said. “I want to see what Dr. Tyler Michael Hall is like while delivering medical care out on the streets of San Francisco.”

His ex didn’t move, obviously thrown by the request.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Tyler finally asked.

What the hell? Surely the guy was teasing.

“I survived cancer,” Memphis said, his tone dry as dirt. “Twice.”

Tyler crooked a brow and matched the tone. “You haven’t met my patients yet.”

Memphis shot him a
you’ve got to be fucking kidding
me
look. For a moment, he thought Tyler was going to laugh in response. And swear to God, Memphis would give up his Fifth and Taylor contract just to hear the sound.

“Okay,” Tyler said. “Meet me in front of my office tomorrow morning at eight o’ clock sharp.”

Memphis grinned. Much more progress like this and they might become friends.

Memphis had never shied away from a challenge before, and he wasn’t about to start now.

His favorite stunt ever had involved jumping off the bridge spanning the Eagle Valley Gorge and parachuting down onto the back of a moving tractor trailer on the road below. The feat hadn’t been easy. If he could pull that maneuver off, surely a day walking the streets of San Francisco with Tyler should be a breeze. How hard could it be?

He had a feeling he was about to find out.

Memphis eyed the graffiti-marked alleyway, ignoring the concerning smell and watching the butcher-shop door through which his ex had disappeared ten minutes ago. Tyler had been right. When Memphis had wondered if the press would follow them around today, Tyler had said no one bothered him during his rounds down here.

After spying a suspicious puddle, Memphis shifted to the left and then stepped in something soft. He lifted his foot, a nasty expanse of unidentifiable goo stretching between his athletic shoe and the pavement.

Jesus, no wonder reporters weren’t a problem here.

Tyler stepped out of the shop, his standard button-down shirt and tie in place. “Can you carry this for me?” With a small backpack slung over one shoulder, he held out a paper sack with a large grease spot on the bottom.

“What is it?” he said as he took the bag.

“The butcher regularly donates them for Fritz and Opal.”

Memphis opened the sack, and an unpleasant scent hit his nose. He grimaced and stared down at the two bones with bits of meat still attached, his stomach giving an unpleasant lurch.

“Goddamn, Ty. That’s gross.” He closed the bag to put an end to the assault on his nose. “They can’t be for one of your patients.”

“They are.”

Memphis’s jaw almost dropped. And then he spied the quick flash of light in Tyler’s gray eyes and realized the guy was razzing him.

Interesting.

Ever since Memphis had shown up this morning, Tyler had seemed almost…cheerful, like he had a plan in place and was looking forward to carrying it out. More specifically, a plan with Memphis in mind. Which should have him worried, but Tyler’s teasing gaze was kind of awesome.

Memphis made the decision to play along. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll carry the bones.”

“Excellent,” Tyler said. “Follow me.” And then he turned and headed off.

Memphis trailed after him. Tyler clearly knew where he was going, maneuvering the back alley strewn with trash and a smattering of homeless with a comfortable ease that could only come from a familiarity with the community.

Over the next hour, he stopped to check on several people, the encounters fairly seamless and easy. Memphis began to relax and enjoy watching Dr. Hall at work. He certainly had a way with his patients. And just when Memphis had begun to feel guilty for thinking there was an underlying diabolical plan at play, Tyler came to an elderly lady with frazzled gray hair. Tucked in the crook of her arm was a Chihuahua mix of some sort.

Great, a
yappy
dog.

The canine took one look up at Memphis and gave two high-pitched barks, as if in warning, and he let out a small groan he hoped went unnoticed. He absolutely
refused
to acknowledge the sweat popping along the back of his neck. Tyler’s lips pressed flat, biting back a smile.