Page 28 of Breathe
Patrick Young crouched in bare feet in the bottom of the shower with his hands over his mouth. Fear filled the dark eyes staring up at him. Wearing a pair of sweatpants with a matching sweatshirt, Patrick appeared smaller than ever.
Real crouched down in front of the bathtub real slow-like and held Patrick’s gaze.
“I…I…heard you and then you were gone,” Patrick stuttered.
“I had to take care of something,” Real said softly and held out his hand.
Patrick was so very different from the flirty man he had been the night of the hookup.
What Real had thought was a casual fuck had turned into an offer of protection.
That was the reason he continued coming so often to Patrick’s place.
It wasn’t what Azrael had imagined. Real could see the judgement in the young assassin’s eyes, and he had done nothing to dissuade Azrael because he needed the buffer between them.
Hauling Patrick to his feet, he released the guy and walked back to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. He shoved it into Patrick’s hands and the man took several swallows.
Protecting Patrick had started when Real had gone into the same club where they’d first met. He sat with a drink at the bar and watched people gyrating on the dance floor.
Patrick had come up to him wearing black pants and a black hoodie pulled up over his head. It was so different from the first time he’d seen the guy wearing tight silver pants and a mesh crop top.
Real hadn’t even recognized it was the hook up until Patrick had lifted his head.
A long, jagged wound with black stitches ran across the man’s cheek.
Real had wanted to walk the fuck away. He wanted no part of whatever had happened to Patrick.
The only reason he had hooked up with the guy in the first place was because the man reminded him of Azrael—with his dark hair, dark eyes, and slender build.
That was where the similarities ended. Patrick was ten years older than Azrael and a hell of a lot more seasoned. Plus, the guy took home random men. Was it any wonder one of those men had turned out to be a sicko?
But Real hadn’t been able to walk away when Patrick began to talk.
That night, Real had learned that the fresh cut on Patrick’s face had come from his ex-boyfriend. Patrick had spent months getting away and pretty much hiding, but the guy had found him, raped him, and cut his face.
From that moment, Real decided he would stick around and get rid of the ex permanently.
Azrael had gotten it all wrong.
And while Realdidwant that barrier of misunderstanding to remain between them, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
He hadn’t hooked up with anyone since before Christmas.
Nor would he.
And he wasn’t going to look too closely at why that was.
Monday around noon,
Pepperdine University dormitories…
“It was nice spending the day with my brother,” Apollo said dumping his overnight bag on the top bunk in their dorm room.
“It was. Although…he seems tormented,” Cash agreed, placing his own suitcase on the bottom bunk.
“Yeah, I noticed that. He’s got it bad for Real, and I don’t think Real feels the same way,” Apollo said, pulling out a clean shirt and hanging it up.
“Yeah, Real does seem cold. It was nice of Real and Stone to drop us off back at the dorms, though,” Cash said.
