Page 38 of Honorable Convictions
His subconscious had provided him with an alternate reality. Instead of creating a vast chasm between him and Mitchell in those first weeks as recruits, they’d clicked from the start. Each moment of training was full of common experiences, and they’d used their talents to better each other. Mitchell had patiently coaxed him through improving his combat skills while Pierson had used his talent for recall to assist his mate with his studies. Those things done for the day, it was their bodies they’d explored, and it was a great deal more than the kiss they’d recently shared.
At graduation, they’d stood before their fellow trainees and the fallen knights who’d gathered to congratulate them. Awarded with their Juris Knight patches, they’d also united their souls. The rest of it had passed as snippets as the decades of togetherness had drifted by. There was the beautiful home they’d chosen together close to work in Vegas with bookshelves full of pictures of a happy couple who worked hard but never let that come between their fierce love.
Pierson had readily accepted the blame on his shoulders as the water had rained over him and it had ripped open a new wound which was bleeding steadily. Mitchell was the one who still thought such a relationship could work while Pierson continued to push him away. If his mind so easily put them together, why did he insist that their matebond was only a fantasy in a fevered brain? With no idea, he was forced to acknowledge, as he’d moved through his day with the dream playing in an infinite loop, that he had a great desire to latch on to it and make it real.
The question that sprang immediately to mind was if he was brave enough to stop insisting they were at the end and instead try to find a beginning. Unsure if he was, or if he’d recover from the agony and sorrow he’d suffer if they were both wrong, Pierson closed his eyes when the doorbell rang, and a new query sprang to the forefront. What if it was right? What was waiting for him if theycouldmake it work?
Shoving all that aside, Pierson rose and made his way to the front door. On the other side was Mitchell with blue roses in one hand and a cookbook in the other.
“Hey, Blondie. These are for you. Are you going to let me in?” Mitchell asked as he did each night, and it suddenly occurred to Pierson that he wasn’t referring to the apartment. Each evening that he teleported to Pierson’s small condo, Mitchell was hoping Pierson was going to give him the opportunity to prove his theory. There he was laying everything on the line while Pierson held himself away, and that was suddenly too wrong for him to continue.
“Thank you. Please come in,” Pierson offered, accepting the flowers and the thick book. Mitchell’s expression was one of surprise as Pierson gave him a wide smile and let the thought of their kiss propel his decisions. After leading him down the hall to get the roses in water, he snatched a vase off the shelf and after filling it, tackled the fun task of arranging the blooms.
“How did you know I like to cook?”
Mitchell shook his head. “I didn’t. I figured if you hated it, I’d take it home.”
Pierson glanced at the handsome man a foot or so away from him and focused on what that dream had felt like, but he wasn’t sure if he could do anything different. The thought of failing as a mate threatened to choke him, and he finally understood that his fear wasn’t going to disappear if someone else was paired with him. His brow furrowed with the knowledge that it didn’t matter who he was with, he’d always be afraid.
“Are you okay?” Mitchell asked. Concern was in his voice and in his eyes, which were a glacial blue in the bright light of his dining area.
Shaking himself out of the trance, Pierson managed a shrug. “Yeah, fine.”
The other fallen knight let out an audible sigh and wandered to the sofa. Pierson didn’t understand how he’d irritated him, but it was a strength of their new—dare he call it a relationship?—that he recognized when Mitchell was upset.
Being a good friend meant asking questions, and Pierson was suddenly desperate to try out his skills on Mitchell. “What did I do to piss you off?”
“What makes you think I’m pissed?”
Finished with his task of arranging the flowers, Pierson set the vase in the center of the table to enjoy them from anywhere in the great room. Bringing the glass of wine he hadn’t finished with his dinner from the counter, he took his usual place in the chair. “You’re pretty easy to read.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink.”
“What are you talking about? I always have wine with dinner.”
“We’ve never had dinner together.”
“I’m not going to take the blame for that one. You don’t get here until after eight. That’s about two hours after I’ve started cooking.”
“Well, you’re the one who insisted on getting a job somewhere with a three-hour time difference.”
Pierson polished off the wine and set his goblet down. “I’ve only lived two places. It seemed natural to want to return to somewhere with good memories.”
“The pitfall of being brilliant. You received headquarters right out of the gate. I moved around plenty, and I’m happy to have lived in so many wonderful cities.”
“I’m getting to see a bit of them now that I’m traveling around to build the requirements list.”
“I can tell by that smile that you’re enjoying it.”
“I did what you said,” Pierson confessed. “I’ve approached everyone as if they’re a client. It’s working out well. Thank you for that. I’m happy to get along with my colleagues, and I hope it assures the JKs that I’m doing my best for them.”
“You’re the closest thing we have to a celebrity amongst JKs. I’m sure no one is concerned that you won’t give it your all. Your work ethic is as renowned as your memory. I’m glad you took my advice. I want you to be successful.”
Unsure and discomfited by the praise and the warmth in his tone, Pierson let it flow through him instead of shoving it aside as was his habit. It was necessary for him to appreciate the way Mitchell wanted him to prosper. Those were the things he had to remember when their rivalry reared its ugly head. “I know you might find it hard to believe, but I want you to be successful too.”
Mitchell’s smile was rueful. “I used to think I was a big deal and that I could tackle anything, but my caseload is bordering on absurd.”
“My fault, I know. I’m still getting two a week.”
