Trevor didn’t realize a tear had slipped out of his eye until Simon wiped it. What the fuck was he doing? He didn’t cry.

“So, yeah. He was just an addict, and maybe he wasn’t even a good guy. But he died, and maybe I could have saved him. I didn’t even know he died until the next day. I slept out there all night, and then had to call Blake to come get me. He told me on the way home. The next day, I left for rehab.” He’d stayed clean ever since. Trevor wouldn’t go back to living that way. He couldn’t.

“It wasn’t your fault—”

“Don’t,” Trevor cut him off. “Everything I did was my fault. I know that. There’s no changing it. All I can do is try to make up for all the mistakes I’ve made and all the ways I’ve hurt the people I love—my mom, Blake, even Jason. He’s been close to my brother so long, he’s like family to me. I’ve hurt them all.”

Simon’s voice was soft, comforting, when he said, “You care enough to try and make it up to them. That’s what matters.”

He looked at Simon then, the stupid question filling his head. And...he just let it out. Didn’t think of the consequences of asking or why he wanted to know. “You know who I have in my life that I care about. What about you? Who do you have?” Because really, he didn’t know much about Simon other than the fact that he had an ex-wife, and all he cared about was being a surgeon.

“Heather,” Simon didn’t hesitate to say that. Then he paused, sat up and then pushed out of bed. “And you. There’s no one else. I wasn’t lying when I told you that. I’m going to take a shower.”

He was an asshole. He never should have asked that, because he knew it had upset Simon. “I need one, too,” was his reply.

Simon paused, then absently rubbed his hand. “Then I guess you better come with me.”

***

They showered together. Trevor gave him head when they got out, and then Simon ordered food. Pizza, again. They really needed to figure something else out, or make plans ahead of time so they had more options other than pizza delivery.

Simon’s bedroom was dark except for the laptop on his lap. He sat in a chair on the other side of the room. It was silent except for the sounds of Trevor sleeping—his breath whispering out, or his body moving against the sheets when he changed positions.

Simon didn’t know why he couldn’t sleep. He’d dozed for about two hours before he woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep again. He’d lain in bed a while with Trevor. He’d touched him, his arm, his tattoo, his shoulder, his neck and chest. Brushed his thumb over the nipple piercing, trying to figure out how they got here. How this felt different than the men he’d been with in college.

Why he felt like he needed it so much when he’d only ever needed surgery. As much of an asshole as it made him, he’d never needed Heather. He cared about her but he hadn’t needed her.

But he needed this.

That’s what had prompted him to get out of bed. What made him go get his laptop, because that’s all he did now—research, watch videos and study his craft as though it was something he would ever do again. Maybe other people with an injury like Simon’s could still perform, but surgery wasn’t your everyday career.

It was after an hour that he clicked his favorites and scrolled down to a link he’d visited a hundred times.

A new procedure for people with his nerve damage. It was controversial, but most things that mattered were. Most people didn’t think it worked. How could it? But there was evidence to the contrary. And it made sense to Simon. In his field, nothing was completely black and white. He had performed what people thought were miracles. He’d fixed people who he didn’t think he could fix.

What if there was a way he could be a surgeon again?

What if he couldn’t?

That was the scariest part, trying and failing. For a man who hated to fail, where failing usually meant someone’s life, sometimes it was easier not to try at all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Things went on like that for a little over a month. They ran together a few mornings every week. On those days, if Trevor wasn’t already at Simon’s when he woke up, he made his way there, jogged and then got ready for work.

Trevor went to meetings twice a week. It was easy, he’d heard, to slow down when things got busy. Between work and Simon, things were pretty crazy for him, but he couldn’t let himself lose that. He may not say it aloud, but he needed it.

His meetings helped keep him steady, because that was another thing he didn’t mention aloud. There were cravings. There probably always would be. He just had to be strong enough to fight them.