Page 68 of Fire & Ice

And then Christian drops his whiskey on the floor.

It’s not an accident—that much Leander understands immediately. Christian issloshed,so drunk that he’s unsteady on his feet, which leaves Leander hard-pressed to believe the guy wasn’t already half in the bag during the rehearsal. When it happens, everyone is chatting, pulling their coats on, discussing sleeping arrangements for tonight and plans for the next day. Bri and Beau are over in a corner of the restaurant’s private room they’re all currently occupying, exchanging an extended, sappy goodbye.

On the other side of the table from him and Tripp, Christian raises his tumbler in the air, making brief but pointed eye contact with Leander before slamming it down onto the ground, glass and watered-down whiskey spraying in every direction. Several of Bri's bridesmaids screech and jump away, everyone collectively creating space to avoid both the mess and becoming the target of Christian’s sudden, uncontainable wrath.

“No, fuck that,” Christian is slurring at Brett, who appears to be trying to talk him into simply putting his coat on and leaving (or perhaps just leaving, fuck the coat). On their side of the table, Tripp pushes his chair back to get to his feet, but keeps hold of Leander’s hand. He watches the proceedings with interest but resists jumping in head-first the way that he normally would.

“Tripp,” Leander says urgently, standing and leaning in close to Tripp’s ear. “You have to trust me, please. Don’t react. No matter what happens, I think it’s best that you stay out of it. In your current state—”

“See, this is what I’m talking about,” Christian interrupts loudly, coming to face-off directly opposite them. Slamming his hand against the table, his fist makes it—and all the glassware on it—rattle and shake. Very slowly, Leander puts a bit of distance between his and Tripp’s face, but he doesn’t drop his hand. Why should he?

“These two fuckin’faggots,” Christian continues, gesturing wildly, like everyone in the roomobviouslyagrees with and supports his assessment. “Flaunting their disgusting relationship all goddamn night. In achurch,at that.” Christian pauses to make a face and spit on the floor, and Leander marvels at the irony, unable to stop himself from cracking a smile. “Oh, you think that’s funny, faggot?”

At his side, Tripp is palpably about to lose it. Leander can tell, and he’s not under any delusions—the only reason he has yet to rearrange Christian’s face is becauseLeanderasked him not to, but he’s barely holding on.

A good boy, but not one with endless patience, nor should he be.

“Nothing I am is any of your business,” Leander replies evenly, a lot calmer than he feels, even as Mickey takes a menacing step forward.

“Pretty clear you’ve had too much to drink, son. I think it’s time you clear out before I have to go and get ugly, you hear me?” Mickey’s tone brooks no argument, but Christian doesn’t even acknowledge him, doesn’t tear his eyes away from Leander and Tripp—specifically, their joined hands—foronefleeting second.

“You’re right,” he says, presumably to Leander, since his eyes are still locked on their target. “Don’t give a shit about you,ambulance driver. It’s thisweak, candy-assbitchgiving this family andBeaua bad name—”

Except for the short time Tripp was standing to give his toast, Leander has steadfastly held onto his hand since they exited the car. He’s terribly remiss to drop it for the first time now, but needs absolutely must. Before anyone else can react, Leander leans across the table, snatches Christian by the tie, and lands a wicked right hook to the side of his face that drops the man cold.

“Talk about me all you like, but don’t come for Tripp,” he says flatly, watching curiously and with his head tilted to the side as Christian flops bonelessly to the floor, apparently unconscious.

“Holy shit,” Beau exclaims from somewhere across the room. He’s still hovering in front of Briana, shielding her from the theoretical fight Leander just ended in one fell swoop. Brett has stepped back to cower over by the wall, and the fact that he doesn’t even try to come to Christian’s defense is enough for Leander not to go out of his way to engage with him.

“Damn, boy,” Mickey says with an appreciative whistle, stepping forward to peer down at where Christian continues to be out for the count. “Someone should probably check on him. Or call a bus.” He stares for another second before turning on his heel and cheerfully looping an arm through Reina’s. “Well, we’ll see you all in the morning. Beau, I expect you’ll need someone to fill a space at the altar—I’d be honored to stand up for you, boy.”

A visibly overwhelmed Beau is nodding, opening his mouth to presumably thank Mickey, but whatever he’s about to say is interrupted by Ro bursting breathlessly into the room, back from wherever she’s been.

“Lee,” she says urgently, “The restaurant is calling the cops.”

Beau makes a noise, turning towards where Leander and Tripp are still standing together uncertainly and waving them off. “Go,” he says. “I’ll talk to you both at home. Go, before they get here.”

“I’ll handle it,” Mickey assures them. “He’s right, though. Better that you’re not here when they show up.”

Leander nods, having full confidence that the beat officers will defer to whatever account Mickey gives them regarding what happened. As City Fire Chief, Mickey holds a lot of clout in this town, a lot of pull with the rank and file in every emergency services department, should he choose to use it. He doesn’t throw that influence around lightly, which should make him even more believable today. While it’s unlikely that what Leander did will have any lasting impact beyond this room—besides, perhaps, for Beau—he’s not about to roll the dice, not when he’s being offered a clean exit.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully, as he and Tripp toss their jackets quickly over their shoulders.

“Don’t thank me,” Mickey says gruffly. “You’re family. And not just because of that idjit,” he adds, nodding towards Tripp, who rolls his eyes. Tripp’s been inordinately quiet through this whole thing, and looks surprisingly calm, but as Leander grabs his hand and yanks him towards the restaurant’s rear employee exit, Tripp turns a heated expression on him that Leander would recognize anywhere.

They tumble through the back door to the sound of sirens already filling the air, approaching swiftly.

“Car’s parked at the front,” Tripp points out. “They’ll see us, maybe stop us from leaving.” He’s right, and Leanderhesitates, glancing around furtively as the cold wind slips in under his dressy trench coat, making him shiver.

Where can they go?

Behind the building, there’s not much. The usual tiny parking lot, dumpsters, some crates for employees to sit on during breaks. The restaurant itself is situated back-to-back with another eatery that faces a city street on the other side, and as such, there’s an alleyway in-between, and several more running perpendicular in both directions. Flipping a mental coin, Leander takes his pick, dragging Tripp down one and then another—lather, rinse, and repeat until it feels like they’re finally a safe distance away.

He brings them to a stop just below a steam vent, one that happens to be exhaling warm, laundry-scented air. Feeling like a fugitive, Leander turns to look at his friend, to check-in with him and see how he’s really doing, now that they’re alone. But when he makes eye contact with Tripp, not a single word is needed.

Before Leander even really knows what’s happening, he has Tripp pressed up against the cold brick of the alleyway wall and is kissing him soundly. This press of lips is a revelation, so chock-full of relief and desire and every other emotion that Tripp provokes in him regularly, and Leander isampedfrom what went down inside the restaurant.

His knuckles hurt, his heart races, his blood hums hotly in his veins. He’s worried and maybe a little scared, angry about the things Christian said, and jazzed that he was finally able to honor the promise he made to Tripp when all of this began. He protected him. Not solely by defending his honor, but by doing the dirty work so that Tripp didn’thaveto. Tripp deserves that and so much more, andfinally,Leander did something right.

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