Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 5

unable to wring the frustration from his voice.
    Sebastian threw him a dark glance. "I think you've done enough."
    The venom surprised him, though it shouldn't have. Sebastian did nothing half-assed, including, apparently, resenting the hell out of Drake. "You'd rather I left you there?"
    "I didn't say that."
    "Then what did you mean?"
    "Stop being so fucking reasonable!" Sebastian shouted.
    Drake knew he was being baited, but damn it, it was working. He reminded himself that Sebastian had been through a hell of a lot these past couple days, and considering the grim future that awaited them, it was likely to continue. He reminded himself that Sebastian was a hot head, and that's what he liked about him.
    Hell, loved.
    What use was it to deny the new stitching on his heart, the one that proclaimed Sebastian its owner?
    "I don't like to see you struggle," Drake said softly.
    Sebastian stopped and stared off into the dusty ether. "That's all I do," he finally said in a voice choked with weariness. "It's all I am."
    Drake put his hand on Sebastian's shoulder. "Then let me help."
    Sebastian tensed under his palm, and Drake waited to be thrown off. But then Sebastian turned and wrapped an arm around Drake's shoulder, embracing him, using him for support as they pushed on. Despite the significance of the submission, there was no resentment in Sebastian's touch. No pain at the loss of independence as Drake had feared. Only the steady plod of a man determined.
    It was that perseverance that had kept Sebastian alive, Drake decided. Though he hoped this was one of many times Sebastian would rely on him, he would do well not to tarnish that core of steel, lest he threaten that which he held most dear.
    Their path passed slower now, joined as they were, but the goal was more assured. After a long while the house became visible as a white dot, which grew into a hazy gray box. It was an oasis of sorts, and Drake let himself feel a moment's relief even though he knew this was only a pit stop.
    Finally they reached the world-worn home and dragged up its front steps. It was time.
    "Sebastian."
    He looked up at Drake, and the vulnerability seared him like a scorching hot wire.
    "When I left you there, I went to find El Basque like you asked me to."
    Sebastian's eyes widened, but his breath quickened – too fast, considering they'd already been panting. "Where?" he breathed out.
    Drake nodded toward the house. "Here. I don't know if—"
    But he didn't need to explain, because then Maria was at the door, ushering them inside and dragging Sebastian to his father. Drake watched them embrace from the door. Quietly, so as not to disturb, he gave instructions for Maria to provide Sebastian with whatever he needed, and asked her to tend his wounds.
    Then he turned to leave.
    "Drake, wait."
    He paused at the sound of Sebastian's voice but didn't turn around. "What is it?" He hadn't meant it to come out so harsh, as if he was berating one of his subordinates for speaking out of line.
    "I just… thank you. Thank you."
    His voice was boyish in its gratitude, but imbued with meaning. You did this for me , his voice practically sang. And hell, it was only the truth, but somehow Drake didn't feel up to it. It was too much, too fast, and when exactly had Drake decided he couldn't live without Sebastian?
    "It's nothing."
    "No," Sebastian said, so earnest. "I know what it must have taken. I thought you wouldn't… I thought you didn't…"
    He couldn't stand to hear anymore, not another word of desperate gratitude, for his escape, for his father. He whirled on Sebastian. "I said it was nothing. Nothing. What I did for you, I'd do for anyone, understand?"
    And there it was – the surprise, the pain, the proof that Drake could fuck it up with the best of them.
    "I understand," Sebastian said his voice too wavery to be believed. But then he'd slipped back into the room and the low murmurs came from within. Drake retreated to his room, knowing he'd proved himself a coward once again.
    He sat on the small bed and pulled out the photograph of a woman, her hands resting on her still-flat belly. Her smile was full of pride and promise – a promise never fulfilled. What would she think of him now? He could imagine her teasing him that it had taken him long enough, that he'd finally gotten his head out of his behind. And then she'd smack it, and he'd pay her back in kind, but that was only in his head now.
    He could imagine her laughing over Sebastian's fire,