Page 105 of Warrior's Cross

Cameron could hardly blame him. Now that he was at least partially past being scared to death, he couldn’t look at Julian without wanting to throttle him, without remembering all thepain his loss had caused. Or without wanting to curl up beside him and simply be relieved that he was alive.

Julian seemed to make a massive effort to focus his eyes, and he looked up at Cameron blankly. Cameron wanted to yell at him to snap out of it. He couldn’t ask him all the questions he wanted to ask or kick him in the shin until Julian was once again healthy and in his right mind. Instead of shouting, he stepped closer and slid his hand behind Julian’s good shoulder. “Careful,” he warned softly as he guided Julian to lie back against the pillows.

Julian reached up slowly and gripped Cameron’s wrist. He looked up into Cameron’s eyes, still slightly distant but obviously attempting to fight the remainder of the morphine he had been given. “I missed you,” he stated softly.

A bolt shot through his chest, and Cameron bit his lip against a pained moan. Searching Julian’s eyes before answering, he slowly nodded. After several moments of staring into Julian’s dark eyes, he finally realized that he didn’tknowwhat to say.

Julian breathed out raggedly and looked down at Cameron’s hand.

He pulled it closer and slid his lips along the inside of Cameron’s wrist before he pushed his face into Cameron’s palm and closed his eyes again.

Cameron squeezed his eyes shut as he cupped Julian’s cheek, stroking the stubbled skin with his fingertips. He’d missed Julian so much he hadn’t been able to breathe without it hurting. Cameron didn’t want to hurt anymore. He didn’t want either of them to be in pain.

“You need to rest,” he urged softly. But he couldn’t force himself to move his hand away.

Julian nodded and lowered his head dejectedly, and then he moved gingerly to lie down.

“Are you hurting?” Cameron asked as he carefully placed his hand at Julian’s forehead, afraid the painkillers had worn off already.

“No,” Julian answered weakly as he released Cameron’s hand and slid down to lay on his back. It was the first time Cameron had heard him lie and not put any effort into making it believable. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment and then closed his eyes slowly.

“I’ll be out in the living room if you need anything,” Cameron told him, unable to be in the same room any longer.

Julian merely nodded to let Cameron know he had heard. He kept his eyes closed, and finally he rolled onto his side, despite the obvious pain, and curled slowly. Smith and Wesson were immediately beside him, curling against him and purring loudly.

Exhausted, Cameron let Julian move as he wanted and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him before he had to stop and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Are you okay?” Blake asked pointedly, noticeably inquiring after Cameron instead of Julian.

After a long moment, Cameron dropped his hand. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. He trudged toward the kitchen where Preston sat at the kitchen table, calmly drinking a cup of coffee. Cameron thought this was Preston’s apartment. Cameron was afraid to ask if Julian had been living here. It wasn’t far from Cameron’s own.

Blake watched Cameron for a long moment before moving slowly to sit across from Preston. “You’ll feel better once you hit him,” he murmured sympathetically.

Cameron’s jaw clenched, and he practically collapsed into the chair at the head of the table. Blake glanced at him and sighed softly.

“I’m not judging you, son,” Blake assured him. “I missed him like hell, and I barely like the bastard,” he said with a nod of his head at the closed bedroom doors.

Cameron’s nose wrinkled. “He’s only a bastard some of the time,” he defended.

Blake gave a snort and shook his head. “Expect it to get worse. He’s not good at being hurt.”

“Did you see him the time he was wearing the sling and still came to the restaurant to eat?” Cameron asked abruptly. “He told me later it was because he’d missed the week before. It was before I really realized why he was there every Tuesday. He’d been shot two weeks before—and he still came to dinner.”

Blake nodded his head slowly. “I didn’t mean hurt physically,” he said softly. “Although heisa horrible patient. Did you serve him one night in late November, when he ordered an extra glass of wine?”

Cameron tipped his head to one side. “Yeah, I did,” he said. “That was when it started. He asked me if I liked my job.”

Blake looked over at Cameron thoughtfully and then huffed softy.

“Well. That extra glass of wine? That was Arlo’s. It was the anniversary of the day Julian tossed him out on his ass. Every year, Julian would order him a glass of wine, regret who he was and what he did, and usually end up too drunk to stand.”

Cameron frowned. “He didn’t stay. I remember thinking it was a very odd night. Two glasses of wine, didn’t even touch his dinner... and he left me a two-hundred-dollar tip.”

Blake nodded. “I know,” he said with a sigh. “I called him on a job that night. I remember being afraid I hadn’t caught him in time, that he’d be too drunk to do it. That was where the shot in the arm came from. My point, though, is that he regretted the way he and Arlo parted. I think, deep down, Julian didn’t mind dying if it was Arlo doing it.”

“So why did that change? Why did Julian start trying to kill him?” Cameron asked.

Blake shrugged. “That, you’ll have to ask him. Julian’s mind doesn’t work like a normal person’s.”

---