He didn’t wait for an answer. Moaning instead. “I’m too close. Come with me?”
Solomon stroked his cock faster, groaning in agreement. Together.
“So good,” Hugo said breathlessly. “You’re making me—Fuck, I’m coming! Baby I’m—”
Solomon stifled his cry as his orgasm washed over him, pulling him out of the memory as he stroked himself until there was nothing left, shuddering with the force of his release.
“Damn it, Hugo.”
He leaned his forehead against the tiled wall, catching his breath and letting the lukewarm spray soothe his sensitive skin. It couldn’t take away the ache inside. Nothing ever did.
Temporary release wasn’t enough anymore. Reliving those moments…it wasn’t enough.
Because each time the haze of arousal cleared, it was impossible not to remember how badly things ended that night. How he’d been embarrassed by his desperate, clinging behavior and used a burst of loud laughter from the party as an excuse to step away.
Again.
God, he’d been messed up. Maybe Hugo was right.
“Fuck that.”
He was not his father. Not yet. And Hugo may deserve better, but there was no one who would ever want him more.
He needed to find some way to prove to Hugo that things were different now. That he was different. He couldn’t keep going like this.
Something had to change.
A loud rattling sound had him lifting his head in time to see a shard of tile vibrate off the wall. “What the hell?”
Was it an earthquake? There hadn’t been one since the city was fou—
He reached for the visibly shaking showerhead just in time for a blast of icy, gritty, brown water to hit him directly between the eyes. “Son of a—Shit!”
His hand lifted and he took an instinctive step back, losing his footing with nothing to stop his momentum but a flimsy vinyl shower curtain.
The loud crack when his arm broke his fall had him seeing double.
“Motherfuck—William!”
“Hey, cuz,” he shouted back from the floor beneath him. “I started the dishwasher and now it’s making sounds like it’s possessed. If you’re done with your shower, you should come have a look at it. We might need to call a priest.”
He pounded his head against the floor to distract from the pain in his arm and the desire to throttle the Irishman. “Turn it off because I need a ride. Think you can drive an SUV? On the right side of the road?”
God, he hoped so. The last thing he needed was to get pulled over on the way to the hospital with a shower injury and Wild William Finn behind the wheel.
Chapter Two
“Busy night?”
Hugo Wayne hefted his bag over his shoulder and offered his sister a tired smile. “I should have been out of here half an hour ago, but not because it was any busier than usual. I don’t know how Jasmine survives this and raises three kids on her own. One week on the night shift and I’ve aged ten years.”
“You are incredibly spoiled, I agree, but nip that aging thing in the bud right now. If you age ten years I’ll have to, and I know you wouldn’t do that to your favorite sister. Especially since I’ve given you three days off to readjust before you go back to mornings. Happy early birthday and you’re welcome.”
He chuckled. Of his six siblings, Bronte was the oldest and, yes, probably the one he was closest to. At this moment, he was also grateful she was his Charge Nurse, since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken three days off in a row. He needed every one of them. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She was leaning in the doorway of the locker room and he noticed she was wearing the plum-colored scrubs he and his brothers had gotten her for her birthday last month. They were covered with dinosaurs wearing tutus and big smiles.
Bronte wasn’t smiling. She was watching him with a strange expression on her face. It couldn’t mean anything good.
“What’s that look for, Bronte-saurus?”
“This look?” She pointed to her face. “This look means I’m wondering if you should be sitting down before I tell you about the patient currently recovering in the emergency room.”
He frowned. “What are you talking about? And why were you down there?”
“I was called.”
That definitely sounded ominous. “Why would I have to sit down, Bronte?”
“Because the last time you saw him you were a mess for months. And despite the dirt he’s covered in and the way his arm was dangling when he first showed up, he looks even better than he did back then.” She gestured to her short, stylish bob. “All long, blond hair and brooding scowls. The new look is really working for him. You know how much I like that Viking show.”
Hugo dropped his bag. Younger. “Solomon Finn is in the ER? Is he hurt?” Oh God. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now.” She walked over to him and took his hands in hers. “First of all, he’s fine.”