Page 21 of Honorable Convictions
After setting his stack of plates on the shelf in the cupboard, he stepped out of the kitchen and through the tiny dining nook and attached living area. Since he had never purchased furniture, he’d insisted on a place that came handsomely appointed, and the bold black-and-white decor appealed to him. Before he got to the entrance of his place, there was a second knock.
“Coming,” he called out, wondering who his obviously impatient guest was. Pulling open the dark wooden door, he nearly slammed it shut again. Mitchell was there, wearing a pair of faded jeans and a bomber jacket. “How did you get my address?”
Although Mitchell smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes, which today were more aqua than blue. Over the decades, Pierson had admired the way they changed depending on the light in the room. His own were always the same dark green. The Juris Knight held out a bouquet of fruit in his hands. “We put together a pool in the office to give you a good luck gift. Kyle was kind enough to give me your address so it could be delivered.”
“I’m sure he didn’t intend for you to show up at my doorstep.”
“Of course not, he doesn’t know that we’re mates.”
Pierson’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mind not advertising my business to the neighbors?”
“Are you embarrassed to have me as a mate?” Mitchell asked devilishly with a lifted brow.
Reaching out, Pierson tried to grab the container of flower-cut edibles, but Mitchell moved it deftly out of the way. “Give it to me.”
“Invite me in.”
“Why?”
“Never mind,” Mitchell said, taking a step forward and brushing past Pierson into his apartment.
Dutifully ignoring the way his dick perked up at being so close to the man who’d only touched him in his dreams or to knock him to a mat eons ago in a gymnasium, Pierson shut the door. “I assume you’re here because you’ve come to your senses,” Pierson called out. In the few seconds it took him to get into the living area, Mitchell had set the fruit on the dining table and was pulling off his jacket to reveal a dark Henley.
“I have, Blondie. We’ve spent too much time playing these foolish games.”
“Our separation agreement should be straightforward. As familiar as we are with the law, I doubt we’d need someone else to represent us. I’ll go grab my laptop, and we can fill it out right now.”
Mitchell shook his head. “We won’t be needing the computer. I already told you, there’s no fucking way we’re separating. Not temporarily or permanently.”
“I don’t know how to get through your thick skull that we’re not even friends.”
“Which is the first thing we should remedy. What’s your favorite color?”
“My what?”
“Those are things that best friends know. I googled it, so it has to be true,” Mitchell said with a shit-eating grin. “Mine is green. More specifically, the shade commonly referred to as bottle green. It’s the same color that you see when you look in the mirror every morning.”
“Did you lose a bet?”
“What?”
“I can’t imagine you’re here having this discussion of your own volition. Did one of your buddies suggest you come here and try this whole friend schtick you have going?”
“Now, why in the world would any of my friends suggest that? No one knows you’re my mate. For some insane reason, I agreed to keep it a secret way before you and I became the two best Juris Knights in the Order of the Fallen Knights.”
Pierson was discomfited and at a loss for words. Moving to DC was first and foremost to get away from Mitchell. There was a need to bury the fantasies that haunted him of them together, so he could approach the demonic spell with neutrality. The way he understood it, that was necessary for the spell to divide them. It was impossible to do if his blood heated at the thought of him or if he held on to any feelings about what might’ve been. “If I was honest with you, would you listen and not automatically retort with some trite or inane comment?”
The laughing eyes went solemn, and Pierson’s heart bled. If this man—the one who approached him without mocking—made up more of Mitchell’s personality and had been front and center, they could’ve had a fighting chance, but he was tired of daydreams. “I’m lonely, Brooks. I’ve been that way since I was resurrected. I’m tired of this endless cycle of isolation. By allowing ourselves to move forward with separation, I’d have an opportunity to start fresh. In both instances where the spell was used, the freed men were re-paired swiftly. I’m hoping for the same thing.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that I’m lonely too?”
“Honestly, no,” Pierson responded. Inside him was a deep, dark abyss that ached for the comfort of another person. For decades it had grown unnoticed, but it was too large to be ignored, and Pierson had to face the reality of his life. Work had become unfulfilling, and he’d sunk further into misery. It was a situation of his making, but Pierson didn’t know how to connect to his fellow JKs, and the man who should be the other half of his soul was his worst enemy. “You have plenty of friends.”
“I don’t have my mate, Blondie.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“You know why,” Mitchell responded. “You’ve got that shiny, blond hair that’s always perfectly combed. I swear, it didn’t even move when we used to spar in the gym during training. That’s you, Blondie, never a hair out of place. Always perfect.”
