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Chapter Forty
Rayne
“Mike. Are you sure?” Rayne asked again after Mike picked him up from the spa, the same as he’d done all week. “I thought you liked to go for a ride on Friday nights.”
Mike let the back of his head fall against the headrest after he pulled into the garage and turned off the engine. He was staring at his shiny black bike as if he was willing himself to just get on it but couldn’t muster the strength.
“I’d love to sit behind you and hold on to you tight.” Rayne inched closer to Mike and snuggled against the side of his face. He smelled wonderful fresh from a shower, and Rayne didn’t think he could wait another moment to be with Mike again. “I know you’re tired, but the night air might revive you.”
“It’s not just that I’m tired, Rayne. My body feels like I went ten rounds with Mike Tyson when he was in his prime.” Mike pulled away from him and got out of the truck, leaving Rayne baffled.
Am I losing my touch?
“Maybe tomorrow. I’m gonna turn in early.”
Not again. “Do you want me to come get you when dinner is ready?”
“I’m too tired to even fuckin’ eat, Rayne.” Mike opened the door and went inside the house, clumsily tossing his keys toward the hook and missing. “We still haven’t hired any more guys, and I had to let go of one this week for coming to work hungover, which made me have to pick up his slack.”
Rayne didn’t know what to do. He felt so helpless—well, more like useless. His man needed something… it just wasn’t him.
Mike pecked him on his cheek, then headed toward the stairs like he’d done the last four days. Rayne was almost desperate enough to throw himself against the backs of Mike’s calves to beg him for some damn quality time. Mike said it wasn’t always this bad at work, and he’d apologized for being such a boring partner, but lately, his business was struggling to keep up with the increase in summer business and unable to find more reliable employees.
He messaged Chelsea about going out to get coffee, but his friend had a date with that woman she’d had a connection with earlier this week, so he was on his own. Once Rayne finished his dinner for one, he wrapped up the leftovers and put it in the refrigerator in case Mike got hungry later.
Upstairs, he filled his bathtub with mostly hot water and some soothing stress relief oil, then went into his closet to find something comfortable to relax in. After he got in the tub and sank down in the aromatic water, he took a picture of himself and sent it to Mike. He was hoping any minute his man would come in there and yank him out of the tub because he was aching for his body just as badly as Rayne ached for him, but his text went unread.
Rayne couldn’t take this anymore. He washed up quickly, his mood souring as he got more upset with himself. Not Mike. Rayne texted his sponsor, Cliff, and asked him if he was available to talk after his meeting tonight.
I’m covering for Matthew so I have the late meeting.
I need to talk
Can you meet me there?
Rayne thought about what time that would be. Shit. It’d be after midnight, which meant he couldn’t take the bus, but he was desperate enough to sacrifice the additional money to call a cab.
I’ll be there.
“So tell me about him, about Mike,” Cliff asked as he sat across from Rayne in a tattered red booth at Denny’s. “I’m suspecting a little trouble in paradise if you’re sitting here with me at one in the morning.”
Rayne sipped his iced water and yanked apart some pancake puppies to keep his hands busy. He was fidgety, anxious. He needed—needed someone he couldn’t have—and it was eating at his recovery.
“You didn’t tell me it would be like this,” he practically growled.
“Like what?” Cliff never let Rayne’s attitude affect his composure.
“He’s making me crazy.” Rayne used both hands to imitate wringing someone’s neck. “He hasn’t let me back in his bed anymore. Mike… he-he acts like I don’t turn him on when I know I do.”
“But since he’s not humping your leg every five minutes like those guys you used to play with, it’s making you crazy.” Cliff cut a small piece of his country fried steak and popped it into his mouth as if he was oblivious to Rayne’s mini freak-out.
“Yeah, and leaving me with a constant case of blue balls,” Rayne sneered.
Cliff chuckled under his breath. “I had that same condition until I went gluten-free.”
Rayne frowned, then flipped his sponsor off. “I’m so glad you’re full of jokes tonight because don’t I look like I’m in a playful mood. And anyway, no, that’s not the biggest problem. It’s way more than that.” He paused, flustered as he tried to explain these new feelings in the pit of his stomach. Cliff encouraged him to take a couple of seconds to breathe and think of what he wanted to say. After Rayne’s fourth exhalation, his voice was lower when he confessed, “If I can’t make him feel good after his shitty day, then what use am I to him?”
Cliff set his knife and fork down. “Rayne. Look at me.”
