Charlie’s eyes met Jeremy’s, penetrating and intense, like he could read every thought Jeremy left unsaid. “Because I know this is hurting you.” The words were spoken so quietly that the warm May wind whistling through the ruins nearly swallowed them, but they still hit Jeremy’s chest like a thunderous clap.
All his life, Jeremy had been the one able to let almost everything roll right off his back. The one always cutting it up and laughing. The one who didn’t care what -people said about his facial piercings or the ink that covered him from neck to toes or even his bisexuality. Hell, he stood here in a shirt that read, I’m trying to give up SEXUAL INNUENDOS. But it’s hard . . . SO HARD! But knowing he was responsible for the deaths of two men made him want to claw off his skin.
The backs of his eyes stinging, Jeremy turned away. He’d lost it once in front of Charlie. Yesterday. After the full weight of the attack had hit him. Last thing he wanted was to do it again. Because crying was so damn attractive. “All this can be fixed,” he managed, waving vaguely at their surroundings.
“Don’t do that,” Charlie said, his sneakers scuffing against the thin layer of debris that littered the concrete floor.
Jeremy crossed the room to the remains of a window. It overlooked Hard Ink’s giant, gravel--covered parking lot filled with the team’s cars and trucks and the black--and--chrome gleam of over a dozen motorcycles. He braced a hand against the brick. “Do what?”
Except he knew exactly what Charlie was talking about. Because Charlie always cut right to the chase. His shyness meant he didn’t talk much, especially when they were with the whole team. But Charlie was brilliant. Maybe even a savant. And when he spoke, it was always worth hearing. And always honest.
Charlie’s fingers tugged at Jeremy’s arm, and warmth seeped into his blood.
“Look at me,” Charlie said, the unusual command of his words making Jeremy turn. “You helped save my life. You gave me and my sister a home. You’ve made a thousand sacrifices these past weeks.” The wind blew longish dark blond strands across Charlie’s intense blue eyes and he stepped closer, nearly backing Jeremy against the brick. They were evenly matched for height, which meant Charlie’s eyes were right at Jeremy’s. And so were his lips. “You are more kind and generous than anyone I’ve ever met. So don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt you that those guys died yesterday. And don’t think I don’t know you blame yourself for it.”
A knot lodged in Jeremy’s throat. Any other time, he would’ve cracked a joke about just how generous he could be. Complete with an eyebrow waggle. And an unspoken invitation. Now, he slumped against the brick and dropped his chin to his chest, his gaze blurrily focusing on the T--shirt Charlie had borrowed from him. It read, That’s too much bacon! (Said no one ever.) His kidnapping made returning to his home for any belongings too dangerous to attempt, so Charlie had been digging through Jeremy’s shirt collection to find the least innuendo--filled options.
Jeremy shuddered out a breath. Of course Charlie would know how he felt. Because the two of them were the only nonmilitary guys among the group, they’d often been thrown together. They helped the team behind the scenes by doing computer research with Marz or running communications and video surveillance when the team had an op out in the field.
When they weren’t working, they’d fallen into the habit of hanging out together. Jeremy had volunteered to keep an eye on a very sick Charlie when he’d first been rescued, and they’d just sorta clicked. Because of Jeremy’s habit of talking nonstop, Charlie had gotten to know him about as well as anyone did.
Charlie’s injured hand slowly lifted, and Jeremy didn’t miss that it was shaking just a little as it settled on Jeremy’s hip. The contact stole Jeremy’s breath, tight as it already was from the wave of emotion threatening to pull him under. His gaze whipped up to Charlie’s. If it wasn’t for the stubble roughening up the guy’s square jaw and the wisdom in his eyes born of pain, his handsome face might’ve appeared almost boyish. But as attractive as Jeremy found him, he appreciated even more what a good friend Charlie had become, how he seemed to know what Jeremy was thinking without him even having to say.
“You should be inside celebrating,” Jeremy said, his voice a raw scrape. “You and Marz did an amazing thing this morning.” An hour ago, Marz and Charlie had cracked open a heavily encrypted microchip that contained a wealth of information that not only seemed likely to help the team clear its name, but proved that Charlie’s father hadn’t been dirty, like they’d all thought. “And I’m so happy for you about your dad.”