Heated Beat 02 - Lucky Man (13 page)

They lay in a peaceful silence for a while. Finn dozed while Danny played with his hair and tried to let his steady heartbeat calm his racing mind. Murder. Schizophrenia. Murder. Schizophrenia. Whichever way Danny turned, it wasn’t pretty, and for once the lure of Finn—sleepy, smiling, and beautiful—wasn’t enough to distract him.

If Finn noticed Danny’s preoccupation, he didn’t say. When he deemed himself awake, he reached for his guitar and picked out gentle chords and riffs, Danny’s idea of heaven until a phone call disturbed their quiet morning.

As had become habit of late, Danny jumped a mile and sat bolt upright. He searched out his phone where it lay dormant on the bedside table, and frowned. The screen was blank. Finn shot him a strange look and reached over Danny to answer his own phone.

“Hi, Mum. You all right?”

Danny breathed a sigh of relief and flopped back down, ignoring Finn’s continuing, curious stare, though he could well understand it. Finn’s ringtone was the Ramones and nothing like the boring utilitarian beep of Danny’s phone.
Dickhead.
Still, running on empty, Danny wasn’t sure he could handle news of another dead girl, and listening to Finn chat shit with his mother was oddly soothing. That is until their conversation turned to Finn’s health.

“I’m all right, Mum. Honest,” Finn said. “Just been gigging a lot, that’s all. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Finn rolled his eyes, and Danny found a grin from somewhere and plastered it on his face. Finn’s relationship with his mother bemused Danny. They seemed to talk every couple of days while Danny could go weeks without a word from his own.

“Do you want to come to my mum’s with me on Boxing Day?”

“Whaa?” Danny blinked, caught drifting along in that gray place between asleep and awake. When had Finn hung up the phone and dropped onto his chest. “What?”

Finn eyed him, amused. “You’re away with the fairies today. I said, do you want to come to my mum’s with me on Boxing Day?”

“I have to work.”

Finn’s face fell. It was brief but Danny saw it all the same. “Fair enough. I’ve got a gig on Christmas Eve at the city festival. Do you want to do something after?”

“Sure.” It felt like a hollow promise, though Danny couldn’t say why. He put his arms around Finn and held him close a moment, grounding himself in Finn’s familiar warmth. “Sounds good.”

Finn nipped Danny’s chest, then sat up. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.” In fact Danny was surprised Finn had lasted so long without mentioning food. “Bet your cupboards are bare, though, right?”

Finn shrugged. “Probably. No one’s been home all week.”

“Do you want me to go out and get something?”

Leaving Finn’s bed was the last thing Danny wanted to do, but beneath the fatigue of the past few days, he was pretty hungry himself.

“Actually,” Finn said, “do you fancy going
out
out, like to the greasy spoon down the road?”

That caught Danny off guard considering Finn’s reaction to the supermarket the night before. “You want to go out?”

“No. I want to hide under my duvet for a week, and I’ll do it if I don’t go out today.”

The logic made sense, but Finn’s matter-of-fact tone got under Danny’s skin. What kind of life was it when such simple things terrified him? Surely Finn deserved more—

Finn’s kiss cut Danny’s thoughts short, a softly insistent kiss that reminded Danny he’d never answered Finn’s question. Not that it seemed to matter as Finn ground into him and replaced the hollow rumble in Danny’s belly with an entirely different hunger.

Danny got lost in Finn’s embrace, in his silky hair and rough, stubbled jaw. Finn was a lean bloke, all long legs and arms, but his frame was hard and wiry and dug into Danny in all the right places.

Finn rolled them, once, twice, and tugged at Danny’s T-shirt. “Off.”

As if Danny could refuse. He lost his shirt and hooked Finn in place with his legs. Finn pressed his cock against him, and Danny arched his back, welcoming the shift in their usual roles. Danny had always topped Finn—and loved it—but a part of him remained that craved the unknown sensation of Finn driving inside him.

Danny rolled them again and straddled Finn, not breaking the slow, rolling rhythm that had set them both on fire. “Feels good like this.”

Finn closed his eyes. “Fuck yeah. So good. We’re all right, you and me. Aren’t we?”

We’re all right, aren’t we?

Danny froze. Finn had muttered the phrase over and over the night before, but it hadn’t been until Finn was falling asleep that Danny had really heard the distress lacing every word, and by then, it was too late. Danny had fucked up, literally. An image of Finn fumbling blindly with the window catch flashed into his mind, and the heat between them morphed into a vortex that sucked the life out of every place his skin touched Finn’s.

Finn sensed the shift and opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Danny pulled back. He couldn’t explain it, but something felt off. He couldn’t do…
that
with Finn right now.

He rolled away. Finn started to follow him, but then he stopped and sat up. “Fuck. I know what this is.”

“It’s not anything.” Danny sat up too and looked around for his clothes. “I’m just tired, mate. That’s all.”

“Too tired to fuck? Or just tired of me?”

The bitterness in Finn’s tone forced Danny to look at him. “Tired of you? Why would you think that?”

“Oh, come on.” Finn laughed without humor. “Do you think I’m stupid as well as mental? I know I lost my shit last night. It’s written all over your fucking face.” He scrambled out of bed and dressed before Danny could blink. “You wouldn’t be the first bloke who couldn’t handle it. Just do me a favor…. Next time don’t bother fucking me before you run screaming for the bloody hills.”

“What? Who’s screaming?”

“Can’t you hear it?” Finn tapped the side of his head. “Ooh, maybe it’s just me. What do you think, Danny? Does psycho look good on me? Or is it the worst thing you’ve ever fucking seen.”

Danny didn’t know what to say. Finn’s anger had come from nowhere, triggered by something Danny didn’t understand, but his accusation hit dangerously close to the mark. Finn’s condition didn’t turn Danny off, but there was no doubt in Danny’s mind he’d gotten it wrong the night before. Finn hadn’t needed a fuck—he’d needed a friend, and somewhere in the last twelve hours, Danny had forgotten how to be both.

“Finn….” Danny reached out, but it was too late. He’d waited too long and the damage was done.

Finn lurched away and stormed out of the room. A few minutes later, the front door slammed. The dull thud felt like a kick to Danny’s chest. It was a few moments before he noticed Jack in the doorway.

“What was that all about?”

Danny retrieved his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. “Bad night.”

“For him or for you?”

“Both.” Danny got up and yanked his jeans on. Jack watched him through hooded eyes. Despite Finn’s claims to the contrary, he looked like shit. “The supermarket thing upset him, and I didn’t handle it right.”

“There is no right way to handle it, Danny. You just have to be there for him.”

Danny blew out a breath. Jack had said that before.
You can’t just say you’re going to be there for him.
You’ve got to bloody do it.
But could he? Last night had been a test… his first real grapple with Finn’s illness, and he’d failed miserably. “Is it normal for him to sleepwalk?”

“In what context?”

“Context? He got up in the night and tried to jump out the window.”

Jack ventured farther into the room and sat on Finn’s bed. “Yeah, he does that sometimes. Drives Will fucking crazy.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not laughing, but honest, mate, it’s nothing to worry about. He sleepwalks when he’s anxious, not when he’s relapsing. If he’s slipping into something, he tends not to sleep at all.”

Right. Danny felt his patience evaporate. “So if I shouldn’t worry about that, what
should
I worry about?”

“This.” Jack pointed at Finn’s open bedroom door. “Finn’s the nicest guy in the world. He only yells at people when he’s shitting a brick. You need to figure out what’s bugging him and fix it.”

“Fix it?”

“Or at least convince him it’s okay to be scared. Finn worries about stuff you and me don’t even notice. He’s likely got himself worked up over something really bloody stupid.”

Danny wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t feel like explaining to Jack how he’d pulled away from Finn in a moment Finn had probably needed him more than ever. Instead he settled for, “It wasn’t his fault. I’ve got a lot on at work and I haven’t been around much. I wasn’t paying attention and I fucked up.”

Jack was silent a moment, then he seemed to make a decision. “Finn’s been well for a long time. The last time he lost it was because someone fucked him over.”

“A boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Finn got agitated over something small and the bloke he was with freaked… made more of it than it was, and pushed him over the edge.”

“Into an episode?”

Jack grimaced. “Yep. And he didn’t hang around to fix the damage either. He was long gone by the time Finn was well enough to see anyone, and that shit stayed with Finn… still does. You’re the first bloke he’s brought home in years.”

Danny filed the information away in his already overloaded brain. He’d known from the beginning that being with Finn would be challenging, but he felt sorely unprepared for the way Jack was looking at him now… like Danny held all the answers, when he’d never felt so fucking out of his depth. “I don’t know where he’s gone.”

“Not far.” Jack got up and drifted to the door. “If I know Finn, he’s probably smoking my fags in the park. He’ll be back soon enough. If I was you, mate, I’d sit tight and put the kettle on.”

Danny sighed as Jack mooched back to wherever he’d come from. A cup of tea sounded like the best idea in the world, but without Finn to overpour the milk and flick sugar in his hair, nothing felt right.

Chapter Eleven

F
INN
TEXTED
him later:
I’m sorry.

No need. My fault
, Danny shot back.

Nope. Definitely mine.

Are you okay?

Yep. Saw my nurse. Got my jab. I’m good.

Then so am I.

Call you later?

Anytime.

“
T
HE
S
LEEPY
Stargazer
, eh? Mate, you’re such a contradiction.”

Finn ignored Bigsy’s gentle ribbing and concentrated on the nativity unfolding on the tiny stage of the local church school. The hall was packed with parents and community figures, but for once Finn didn’t mind the crowd. Watching the children perform the songs he’d pretty much rewritten was oddly fascinating, and not even Bigsy taking the piss could distract him.

Shame Bigsy didn’t care. “Are you coming over after? We’re gonna get a curry in.”

Finn wanted to refuse. He’d felt antisocial all week, but it was a few days before Christmas Eve, and he hadn’t seen Bigsy’s kids in ages.

“Bring Danny if you want.”

Christ. Did it ever stop? “Danny’s working,” Finn muttered. And it was true. Danny had worked nonstop since Finn’s embarrassing temper tantrum, and despite a few text assurances to the contrary, Finn was starting to worry he’d fucked things up for good.

The lack of resolution bugged him. Danny had been long gone by the time Finn had simmered down enough to go home. Jack said he’d been called into work, but Finn wasn’t convinced.

Serves you right for having a hissy fit.
Heat flooded Finn’s cheeks for all the wrong reasons. His last encounter with Danny had been a clusterfuck from the start. Only the sex made sense—at least it had until Danny had made it clear it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat in a hurry.

“It’s not that, Finn. I just feel like we should’ve talked more before we got down and dirty. We can’t use sex as a distraction when things get tough.”

Danny’s logic—conveyed over a snatched phone call—made sense, but Finn didn’t like it. Danny seemed like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. What if Finn’s burden became too much for them both?

The final song of the nativity roused Finn from his brooding. He smiled. The original track had been the tackiest of the lot, and Finn had spent long hours reworking it into something that fit the beautiful set and costumes Ben’s sister had designed. All things considered, it had come out pretty well. Finn had even caught Danny whistling it in the shower.

Danny. Fuck’s sake.

The concert drew to a close. Bigsy punched Finn’s arm. “Well done, mate. Much better than the utter shit I sat through at Emily’s school yesterday.”

Finn laughed. “Better than the aliens in Bethlehem? I don’t believe that.”

“You will. Karen videoed it. Come on. Let’s pick up some grub and head back to mine.”

Bigsy’s tone left no room for argument, and Finn let himself be hustled into Ben’s car and driven across town to the overcrowded terraced house Bigsy and his family called home. On the way they picked up enough Indian food to feed a small army. Bigsy’s kids ran out to meet them. Finn heaved a toddler onto his shoulders and felt halfway human for the first time in more than a week.

A rowdy dinner followed. The kids went to bed and the adults kicked back, crammed around Bigsy’s kitchen table, and reminisced about years gone by. For the most part, Finn just listened. He’d had his share of wild nights out, but he had nothing on Bigsy and Jack when they were left unsupervised.

Bigsy left the table and disappeared into the garage. He came back dressed as Batman and struck a pose, pointing a beer bottle at Jack. “Face it, mate. I’m a superhero.”

Karen snorted in a way that belied her delicate frame. “Dickhead, more like. Whatever happened to your Robin suit, Jack? Because I know you didn’t take it back to Germany.”