Page 48 of Resisting You

Frey nodded, but when he tried to climb off Renato’s lap, he was held fast. A moment passed, then another. Frey cleared his throat. “Are you waiting for an apology?”

Renato’s eyes widened. “Is that what you think this moment deserves? An apology?” He sounded offended, and Frey wasn’t sure if he felt justified or guilty because he didn’t know. This was new for him. It was strange and confusing, and he didn’t know how to navigate where he was, or what he wanted, or what Renato was willing to give.

And he wasn’t sure there was any sort of endgame, which made it all a thousand times worse.

“Frey.” His name was spoken softly, a tender hand at his cheek. Somehow, that was worse than all the times Renato had berated him.

“Don’t,” he begged.

Renato’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t give in. Instead, he palmed Frey’s cheek, then pulled him in for a kiss. It was chaste, though it wasn’t particularly kind. It was possessive, though, which somehow Frey needed. He let it go on as long as he felt safe to do it, and then he pulled back.

“We shouldn’t. We almost got caught.”

“You liked it,” Renato pointed out.

Frey couldn’t deny that, but he also couldn’t back down. This was too risky. “I have a kid. I can’t get fired.”

Renato sighed, but he nodded, and when Frey moved to stand, this time, he didn’t stop him. He just watched with hooded eyes that didn’t let go as Frey walked to the cupboard and pulled out a fresh pair of scrubs. Renato had promised to leave, but he remained rooted to the chair as Frey stripped down and left the soiled fabric in a pool at his feet.

“I don’t work out as much as I should,” Frey babbled as he pulled on the scrub pants.

Renato laughed slightly and shook his head. “Trust me. You work out enough.”

Frey waited for compliments, but the only thing he got was a soft hum of appreciation. When he was finally dressed, Renato climbed to his feet, then pinned Frey to the wall and kissed him again—messier and better than before.

“We can’t do this again,” he murmured.

Frey nodded, as much as that crushed him, and he stole one last kiss, though it didn’t feel like an ending, and that scared him. “I won’t get caught on my way out.”

Renato hummed, then let go with a slow drag of hands, and then without looking back, he was out the door. Frey sagged against the wall, closed his eyes, and wondered how he was ever supposed to move on from this.

Chapter Thirteen

“I’m well aware we all have a bit of a God complex in this business,” Foster said, and Renato closed his eyes, dropping forward to rest his forehead against the steering wheel. The call was on his car speaker, so his hands were free to tug at his hair. The pain was keeping him grounded. “But as much as I’d like to have the power, we can’t just change the nurses’ schedules because we feel like it. It’s kind of our job to get along with them.”

Renato groaned softly. He’d only floated the idea of making sure that he and Frey were never on the same shift unless he was on call. He wasn’t sure he was going to go through with the attempt. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

But he knew he was seconds away from cracking, and he didn’t know what was on the other side of this mess.

“Where are you right now?” Foster asked.

Renato sighed. “Cemetery.”

“You’re so morose. It’s not even your day with Grady.”

“I needed him,” Renato said. For the first time in a long time, the pain of losing him felt fresh. He needed someone he trusted. He needed someone he loved to tell him that all of this was going to be okay. That these weird, overwhelming feelings he had every time he touched Frey were fine. That sometimes you could hate someone until you didn’t.

Foster sighed quietly. “Meet me somewhere.”

Renato turned his head and stared at the flowers on his seat. Grady didn’t need them. He had a fresh bouquet in the planter and plenty of wildflowers blooming. The bouquet was cheap too—he’d grabbed it from the market when he was picking up apples, and he hadn’t thought of Grady when he had.

He’d thought of Frey.

Then he panicked and started driving, and now here he was.

“Where?” he asked.

“I’ll text you the address. It’s a bar. I go there to hook up sometimes.”

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