“They’re fine.”

Blake winced.

Trevor pulled his arm free and dropped the frozen peas to the coffee table. “That’s right, there were two of them, against me. No worries. I’m sure I got the worst end of it. They ran off before I did.”

Trevor took a wobbly step before snatching his keys off the kitchen table. “They were people I used to party with. They wanted me to party with them tonight. I said no, they were assholes about it.”

Trevor made it to the door before Blake spoke again. “Why didn’t you say something? You said you screwed up. I just thought...”

“Because for once I want you to have a little bit of faith in me. For once, have my fucking back because you’re my brother and you trust me. With my past, it’s a selfish thing for me to want. I get that. But we both know I’ve always been good at being selfish.”

Trevor slammed the door on his way out. He heard it open again and Blake shout his name but Trevor ignored him. When he closed his truck door, it felt like he had hit his head with it, his brain hurt so badly.

He didn’t drive far before he knew he had no business behind the wheel. His head and face ached too much for it. Trevor made a quick turn into the park. Being the farthest he could from the road made the most sense so Trevor headed for a spot at the end of the lot. There was a small corner with a few parking spots hidden from the road so he chose one of them. He laid his seat back before killing the engine.

He could go to his mom’s, but he didn’t want to be around people right now. A hotel room was too far away.

Automatically his eyes closed, and he wished he’d brought the peas with him for his face.

When did this get easier? The urges and the cravings. His family. When did he earn their trust back? He’d done what he was supposed to tonight. He’d been there for his mom, and then said no when he could have easily fallen off the wagon.

But he hadn’t. He’d done the right thing, and yet he was still sleeping in his truck the way he’d done too many times to count when he’d been fucked up.

What the hell was the purpose in it all if he still felt like a screw up no matter what he did?

***

Simon didn’t sleep all night. He replayed his phone call with Heather over and over in his head. Just from the sound of his voice, she’d known Trevor meant something to him...and he did. Trevor really meant something to him.

He helped Simon forget about his hand. Made him laugh, made him feel good. When was the last time he’d really felt good about anything other than his work? Even before his injury, it had always been about being a surgeon and nothing else.

There had never been a time in his life where he felt like he was, or could be, more than Dr. Simon Malone, surgeon. As much as he’d loved Heather, he’d never felt like more than Dr. Malone with her. He sure as hell never felt like anyone growing up. Yet he did with Trevor and he didn’t understand why.

But he knew he wasn’t ready to give that up yet.

It was early, about seven, when Simon called Trevor. It went straight to voicemail. He tried again but got the same thing. He deserved it. There was no question about that. He’d been an ass last night. He was an ass often.

He shoved out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Simon grabbed his keys and went for the door. If Trevor wasn’t going to answer his phone then he’d have to deal with Simon in person.

Halfway to Trevor’s his phone rang. He answered, and before he could say hello, Trevor spoke in a sleep-laced, scratchy voice. “You ran away.”

“I did. I’m coming to you right now if that helps.”

There was a moan through the line. It didn’t sound like it was only from lack of sleep. “What’s wrong?” Simon kept his phone between his shoulder and ear, eyes on the road.

“Nothing a little rest won’t help. I got into a fight with two men after you left. I’m a little out of practice, and then—”

“Are you okay?” Guilt and fear made Simon’s foot push heavier on the gas pedal. Christ, he’d left Trevor and he’d gotten into a fight?

“You asked if I’m okay...” Trevor sounded amazed.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

There was a pause and then, “They were old friends, if you can call them that. They wanted to party, but I didn’t. I—”

“I know. I trust you. That’s not what I’m worried about. How bad is it? I’m almost to your house.” He should have been there for Trevor. In this moment, Simon couldn’t even remember why he’d left. Trevor was always there for him. He was his friend, and his lover. Simon had left when Trevor needed him.