Page 38 of Simply Perfection
Clay stepped aside, and Trevor took off. He reached Clay’s car and pulled the handle, but nothing happened. He tried again. He looked up at Clay, standing in the middle of the stairs waving the key fob to the car.
“Clay!”
“Ask nicely,” Clay yelled back.
“Please open the car door,” Trevor grumbled.
“What was that?”
“I said, please open the door.”
“What’s it worth to you?”
Now Trevor was annoyed. “How about saving you the hassle of not having to remove my frozen carcass stuck to the body of your car?”
“Mm, that would probably ruin my paint job. Fine then.”
Trevor heard the click of the lock disengaging and dove inside. The interior was cool, but not as horrible as it was outside. At least there was no wind. The weatherman had predicted that today would be the coldest of the year, and Trevor had to concur. When he glanced back at Clay, Trevor’s annoyance rose as the man acted as though he were taking a stroll in the park on a bright spring day.
Clay made his way to the car and slipped inside. “Trev, I know you’ve always been a little sensitive, but this seems bad even for you. You couldn’t tolerate the cold for less than a minute, how have you been walking home every night? Are you getting sick or something?”
Trevor felt his forehead. “I don’t think I’m getting sick, but for some reason today it’s as though any tolerance I had has flown the coop. Normally when I’m walking home, I try to think of warm things to help. I think of how it feels to have Niall’s or Matt’s arms around me. How comforting and secure it is to sleep between them.”
Clay rubbed his hands together, then placed the back of one on Trevor’s head. He frowned. “I’m not sure. You feel a little warm, and your cheeks are flushed, but I can’t tell if that’s fromthecold oracold.”
“I’ll be fine. Will you take me to Niall’s? The doorman will let me in, even if Niall’s not home. Then he can ply me with chicken soup, and if I play my cards right, a warm snuggle.”
“Which way again?”
“Fort Point. His place is on Wormwood.”
“That’s like five minutes from our place!”
“Yeah, if everything works out, then I’ll be a Southie too.”
“Oh please. Fort Point isn’t exactly South Boston. I’ve seen those new condos going up in that area. Five minutes may as well be five hundred miles in terms of average income. You did well for yourself.”
Trevor jerked in his seat, his eyes burning into Clay’s. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You think I look at Niall as some kind of meal ticket? If—and I stressif—things go the way I hope, then I will pay Niall rent, the same as I do here. You think I don’t know he makes more money than I’ll ever see in my lifetime? You think that doesn’t bother me, despite how much he assures me it’s not important? Well new flash, Detective … it does! And I resent the fact that you assume I’m looking for some kind of handout. You don’t know me at all. Logan may be my friend, but I guess I’m not yours.”
Trevor shoved the car door open and took off. How dare Clay say that to him! Trevor had just started to think of Clay as a genuine friend, not only Logan’s other half.
But you can’t be someone’s friend and still pity them.
Clay had tried to put a positive spin on his reaction to Trevor’s apartment, but the eyes said what the mouth refused. Trevor’s corner of the world had shocked Clay. It was a nice place, dammit, and now … now Clay had the gall to say Trevor had ‘done well for himself’.
“Trevor!”
Trevor ignored Clay’s shout and kept walking. His duffle smacked the outside of Trevor’s leg with every step, and the cold air chapped every inch of exposed skin, but he didn’t care. He would be fine on his own. He’d make his way to Niall’s, and the moment he saw his warrior, Trevor would jump into Niall’s armsbecause it didn’t matter where they lived. Matt and Niall were Trevor’s home.
“Trevor Mitchell! Stop! Please!”
Clay sounded genuinely upset, and Trevor remembered that erratic fluctuations in stress were probably not good for the recovering man. What kind of friend of Logan’s did that make Trevor if Clay got hurt chasing after him?
Trevor stopped walking and looked across the Dorchester Avenue where Clay had pulled over.
“Please, Trev, get back in the car. Youwillget sick if you stay out there. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Trevor’s body trembled as his anger wore off and he was left with nothing but ice water running through his veins. Maybe he’d overreacted? Shit, he knew he had. Trevor’s concern about never being equal to Matt and Niall was a sore he hadn’t healed yet, and today of all days, Trevor’s defenses were down. Unfortunately, Clay had inadvertently found the pointiest stick to prod Trevor’s open wound.
