No Sacrifice Read online

  Rhys looked uncomfortable, but it only lasted a second and then was gone, and Patrick wasn’t sure he’d seen it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the one who’s decided he found a new friend.” Rhys hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and leaned against the doorjamb. “Does Emily know you’ve decided you’re gay now?”

  “What the fuck?” Patrick spun and blinked at Rhys, makeup wipe completely forgotten.

  “Let’s see,” Rhys said, stepping forward and around to Patrick’s other side. He plucked the dirty wipe out of Patrick’s hand and grabbed a fresh one. “You start getting hard for me when we kiss,” he murmured, reaching up and cleaning some of the makeup off Patrick’s forehead. Stunned, Patrick couldn’t say a word, couldn’t seem to move. “Then you start returning those kisses like you mean them… and don’t try to argue. I felt it.” Rhys chuckled. “Then you start hanging out with the gay boys on set. Oh yes,” Rhys continued when Patrick’s eyebrows shot up. “And I’m not just talking about Angelo and Sebastian. Everyone knows they are. But Sound Boy, well… that wasn’t as widely known but not hard to find out. He doesn’t exactly hide it.”

  Patrick scowled even harder and snatched the wipe from Rhys’s hand. He turned to the mirror and went back to work on his cheeks. “What difference does it make what their orientation is? I eat lunch with them. That doesn’t make me gay. Not that it matters. I don’t care—” Patrick’s eyes widened, and he spun around again. “Are you… jealous, Rhys?”

  Rhys started laughing, and it struck Patrick as a little too loud and lasted a little too long.

  “You are. Oh for fuck’s sake, really?”

  Rhys straightened his face and stood up again, shaking his head. “Hardly,” he said, but Patrick thought it came out a little too quickly. “But you might want to watch out, or people are going to start questioning your sexuality.”

  “What about you?” Patrick challenged, not willing to accept the deflection so easily. “I know what I felt.”

  Rhys shook his head, picking up Patrick’s phone. “I don’t know what you think you felt, but there wasn’t anything there.”

  Patrick let it go. “You know I’m married, Rhys, and even so, it doesn’t matter what people think. But I do have a wife that I love, remember?”

  “Yeah, married, I get that. When was the last time you talked to her?” Rhys asked, holding the phone up to show Avery’s picture. “Where is she?”

  “That’s my son, you moron. Of course he’s on the front.”

  “Why not the two of them?” Rhys asked, unlocking the phone.

  “I liked that picture. What difference does it make?” Patrick’s eyebrows were going to be in a permanent scowl at this point. “What are you doing?” Patrick asked, but Rhys just held up a finger.

  “Let’s see, Avery…. Avery…. Avery….” He swiped his finger across the screen over and over again, calling out Avery’s name on every new one. Finally he stopped and looked back up.

  Patrick nearly growled. “He’s. My. Son. What does that have to do with anything?” Patrick asked between clenched teeth.

  “Nothing,” Rhys said before tossing the phone down. Rhys walked toward the door, skirting a fuming Patrick. “Just be careful. Or your new boyfriend might just get you in trouble with your wife.” With that parting shot, Rhys left.

  Patrick removed the rest of his makeup and changed into his street clothes, still angry by the time he’d finished. He was just in the process of tying his shoes when there was a knock on his trailer door. For a brief second, he thought Rhys was back, then reminded himself he was waiting for Chance. “Come in!” he called.

  Chance opened the door and took the couple of steps up into the trailer. “Nice. The production ones are always so full…,” he said, looking around. He paused and peered at Patrick. “Something wrong?”

  Patrick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Rhys had been more transparent than Saran Wrap. He was jealous and confused and lashing out. He’d get over it.

  Patrick opened his eyes and looked up at Chance. “No, it’s all good. Are you able to go?”

  “Yeah, everything’s packed up. So… you still want to go to Pablo’s?”

  “Yes. I’m starved.”

  Chapter 6

  Patrick thought two hours in the car alone with Chance was going to be uncomfortable, especially with the mood he was in from Rhys’s… visit. He was surprised at how wrong he was, and he should have known better. They’d spent plenty of lunches and on-set dinners together for him to know they had plenty to talk about.

  One topic they hadn’t seemed to get around to yet was movies. “No, no, I can do the first and maybe sit through the third one. But the second’s the best, and the fourth simply doesn’t exist.” Patrick shook his head. “I’ve got ’em all on Blu-ray—well… one, two, and three. I didn’t even buy four.”

  Chance laughed. “I don’t know why I never saw them. Just… too many others, I guess, and my mom—who was the one I watched most of them with—wasn’t interested in sci-fi. I’ll definitely have to watch the Alien movies, then—except for four. Okay, okay, I’ll admit to it—I’m a Tolkien geek. Lord of the Rings.”

  “All of them?”

  “You can’t separate ’em, man—they’re all one story,” Chance said, switching lanes into one moving slightly faster than the last. His little Civic fit neatly into the tiny spot, though the move earned him a nice loud honk. Chance thanked the driver with his middle finger.

  “That’s true, very true,” Patrick said, nodding. “What about the new ones?”

  “Well, I have a better opinion than some, I guess, because I knew what they were going into them. They’re… different than LOTR.”

  “How so?” Patrick asked.

  “Um… well.” Chance paused and tilted his head as he thought. “The Hobbit was written for a kid. A bedtime story, you know? For Christopher.”

  “Right.”

  “So the story wasn’t supposed to have the same depth as the rest of it. Jackson had to do something to build it up. So… yeah, I do like it. Of course, it’s not Lord of the Rings, but part of that is because when LOTR first came out, we were… wowed, you know? A lot of people didn’t expect much out of it, because no one had been willing to take the risk—except this mostly no-name horror director, right?”

  “Yeah,” Patrick said, nodding.

  “So we were floored by how well he did handle it—and I don’t think anyone else could have done so well. Jackson is a serious Tolkien fan, so….”

  “So, yeah, he could treat it right.” Before Patrick could say anything more, the alarm went off on his phone. “Oh, I gotta call Avery, sorry.”

  “Never apologize for taking time with your son,” Chance said.

  “Thanks,” Patrick said, wondering at the tone of voice. Something was there that he’d have to find out about. Later—probably much later. He turned his focus to his phone, and a moment later it was ringing.

  “Hi,” Emily greeted him. “You just missed him.”

  “This early?” Patrick asked, frowning at the clock on the dash.

  “He had a big day at preschool. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Patrick said, though he was disappointed. He paused for a moment. “So, uh…,” he started to say, not sure what once again. “How was your day?” he finally managed.

  “Fine. He should be awake until his normal bedtime tomorrow.”

  “Okay, good. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

  Another silence, this one even more uncomfortable. “Did you have a good day?” she asked, and Patrick was so surprised, he almost didn’t answer. The last couple of calls, she hadn’t even asked that.

  “Yeah, actually… well, mostly. Rhys is in a mood, but other than that.”

  Emily chuckled, and Patrick smiled at the rare sound. “When isn’t he?”

  “Really, right?” Patrick replied. “Other than that, it was good. I, uh, have a new friend that I’ve been hanging out with instead, since Rhys
is being weirder than normal.”

  “Oh yeah?” Patrick told himself he was being silly, but it seemed like the temperature in her voice dropped a few dozen degrees. “Who?”

  “His name is Chance. He’s one of the sound guys. Kind of like Sara is to you, you know?” he asked, referring to the wardrobe assistant who was Emily’s closest friend.

  “Really?” she asked, and if it was possible, that sounded even colder.

  “Uh… yeah. You know, friends? Lunch, hang out now and again?” He had no idea what was causing this.

  “Right. I gotta go. Have a good night.” And before Patrick could reply, she hung up.

  Patrick stared at his phone for a long moment, at a complete loss. Something was up, but he had no idea what to do about it. What he could do about it.

  “Everything okay?” Chance asked.

  Patrick shook his head to clear it and looked up. He paused to consider what he should say, then shrugged. “I have no idea, to be honest. She seemed… jealous of you, but that’s ridiculous. She’s never been jealous of my friends before.”

  “Jealous of me? We’re just friends.” Chance blinked at him, eyebrows scrunched in puzzlement.

  “I know, I don’t… I don’t get it.” He shook his head. “Oh, uh….” He pointed ahead, where the traffic had moved.

  Chance cleared his throat. “Right. Sorry.”

  Patrick stared out the window, and Chance focused on driving for a while, both keeping their silence. He kept turning the call over and over in his head, but nothing wanted to come up and make sense from it. Finally, he rubbed his face as Chance took the exit. He wasn’t going to figure it out until he could sit down and talk to her. And that wasn’t going to happen until filming was over.

  When they were seated at Pablo’s and Marcy sauntered over, white ball earrings swinging, Chance flashed her his most winning smile, hoping to head off any comments. “Yes, it’s one check. Yes, he’s buying. No, it’s not a date. We’re just friends and staying that way.”

  “Whatever,” she said, popping her gum and winking at Patrick, who blushed. “Coffee?”

  Patrick nodded. “Yeah, and, uh, I’ll just do the cheeseburger, home fries, pie… thing, again. Do you have, uh, peach?”

  “Yep. Chance?” she asked. Another crack from the gum.

  “You know that’s not approved by the health department, right?” he asked.

  She didn’t answer, just rolled her eyes, punching him in the shoulder. “Whatcha want to eat, doll?” she finally asked.

  Chance grinned. “Same. Burger ’n’ stuff. Coffee.”

  “’K. I’ll be back with the coffee,” she said and turned away. “Pablo!” she called.

  “If you try Portuguese again, I swear I’ll fire you!” he threatened.

  Marcy snorted. “You ain’t gonna fire me!” She rounded the counter, stuck the ticket in the metal holder, threw a wink at the two boys, and leaned in. “Dois ordens de cheeseburgers com batatas fritas em casas—” Pablo growled, and Marcy’s grin got bigger. “E torta de pêssego.”

  “You’re killing me, woman!” Pablo moaned and snatched the ticket off the holder. He glared at her. She laughed, then winked at Patrick and Chance once more before heading to the coffeemaker.

  “I swear he’s in love with her,” Chance said around his laughing.

  “I’m sure of it,” Patrick agreed. “No way he’d put up with it, otherwise.”

  “Yup, I think you’re right,” Chance said as his laughs subsided into chuckles. He was trying so hard not to stare at Patrick. The man was gorgeous to begin with, but when he laughed, his face just lit up. Chance was having a really hard time not being obvious as he watched the gorgeous dark eyes crinkle at the corners or the sexy mouth stretch into such an amazing smile that then caused dimples.

  It irritated him. He didn’t want to think these things about his friend. He liked the friendship he had going with Patrick and didn’t want it messed up with attraction like this. Yes, he was attracted to Patrick, he knew that, but he was trying—in vain, apparently—to bury it.

  Marcy returned with three cups instead of two. She pushed on Chance’s shoulder and, when he moved, sat next to him. “Man, are my dogs tired,” she grumbled, reaching for the sweetener and cream.

  Chance and Patrick grinned at each other. “Please, feel free to join us,” Chance said.

  “Thanks, I think I will,” Marcy replied, sticking her tongue out at him.

  Patrick laughed. “Long day?”

  “I’d say y’all have no idea, but I’m pretty sure y’all do. I’ve been on a few sets. There’s a reason I decided to stick with this.”

  Chance coughed, burying “Pablo” in it, and Patrick laughed again. He liked that he could be the one to make Patrick laugh. He reminded himself that staying friends and not letting his attraction out was the best way to keep being able to do that.

  The cough earned him a punch in the shoulder from Marcy. “So,” she said after she’d fixed up her coffee and taken a sip. Chance groaned, knowing he hadn’t succeeded. She was going to say something anyway. “Have you taken him out for a date yet?”

  “Uh….” Patrick’s gaze darted to Chance, then back to Marcy. “I’m still married, ma’am.”

  “But you wouldn’t be opposed to dating him—or a man in general—if you weren’t?” she asked. “And don’t call me ‘ma’am’—makes me feel old.”

  Chance groaned again, even louder. He closed his eyes, wondering if it was possible for him to spontaneously combust right there. “Marcy!” He knew she meant well, but he just wanted to die. Or hide. In… Timbuktu.

  “Shush,” she said, smacking his arm.

  “No, I wouldn’t be opposed to dating a man,” Patrick said in reply.

  Chance swallowed the lump that wanted to form over the answer. He didn’t miss the distinction. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling as he tried to school his expression.

  “What about Chance?” she asked.

  “Marcy, don’t,” he said, looking at her now and putting a hand on her arm. “Don’t push him into something like that.”

  “I’m not pushin’ anyone. It’s a simple question.” She patted his hand, then looked back at Patrick.

  “Yes, you are,” he argued, glaring at her now. He knew the color was working itself up over his face. It was telling enough, and that did as much to piss him off as her interference.

  “Yes, I’d date Chance,” Patrick said, stopping Chance in his tracks. “If I wasn’t married, I’d have no trouble at all dating him. But I am—married, that is.” He pulled out his phone and unlocked the screen, then turned it around. “This is my son, Avery.”

  “Oh, isn’t he a doll-baby!” she exclaimed and took the phone. “Oh, so precious! How old is he?”

  “Four. Well, almost four. He’ll be four in September.”

  “Will we get to meet him? Where is he?” she asked, handing the phone back.

  “He’s with his mother right now,” Patrick said, and Chance didn’t miss that distinction either. His mother not my wife. He glanced over to see Marcy’s eyebrows up and knew she’d caught it too. “I’ll get to see him in about eight weeks, when filming for the season is over. And….” Patrick paused and sent a glance at Chance that he couldn’t quite figure out. “I hope to have him with me for a while. Maybe take him home to Hawai’i for a bit, but then we’ll be back here.”

  “You have to bring him here!” she said, and Chance couldn’t resist the chuckle at the order. “Do you get to talk to him?”

  “I’m sure I will,” Patrick said and smiled. “And yeah, I talk to him almost every day, unless, like today, he falls asleep right after preschool.” He chuckled at a particular picture, then turned and held up his phone to show them. Avery was sitting up, asleep on a rocking horse, a book open and falling off his lap. His hair was a riot of blond curls falling over his face.

  “Oh, how adorable!” Marcy grinned.

  “Do you have kids?” Patrick asked.

&n
bsp; Marcy shook her head. “Oh, hell no. I love them when they belong to someone else. I like bein’ able to send ’em back.” She chuckled. “Might change my mind someday, but… I doubt it.” If Chance hadn’t been watching, he’d have missed the quick glance she threw at the kitchen. He grinned.

  “Marcy!” Pablo called from the kitchen. “Order up!”

  With a sigh Marcy downed the rest of her coffee and got to her feet. “He’s great, hon, really. I can’t wait to meet him. And if things change, you make sure to take this one out. Y’all’d make great daddies to that boy.” She winked again and took off before Chance could growl at her.

  Patrick only chuckled and looked at him. The expression on Patrick’s face, the look in those dark eyes, gave Chance pause. What was he thinking? What was that about?

  Patrick dropped his eyes to his phone. “Have you ever thought about kids?”

  The question threw Chance, and he had to gather his wits before he could reply. “Uh… someday. If I found a partner that wanted to deal with finding a surrogate or going through adoption or whatever. I love them, but….” He shrugged one shoulder and met Patrick’s eyes again. “It’s not so easy for gay men, you know? And I play with the niece and nephew when I get to see ’em back in Atlanta. So….”

  Patrick nodded. “I have a mess of nieces and nephews. Hell, I can’t keep track of all of them.” He laughed.

  Chance was grateful for leaving the subject behind. The image of himself as a daddy to Avery with Patrick had taken a firm hold in his head, and he wanted nothing more than to get it out. As if attraction wasn’t bad enough, he didn’t need to build dreams of a family with Patrick Tearney too. “I’d be surprised if you could. How many are there?”