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“Tell me what?” Garin’s chest tightened, and he looked at Sazahk in the far corner, but he had his back to Garin and offered no answers. “Bar’in, what didn’t he tell me?”
“Goddammit, that man is the most idiotic genius in the sector.” Bar’in crossed his arms and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a long finger. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, and when he opened them, pity clogged their yellow depths. “Shit, I’m sorry. I thought he’d told you, but, evidently, not.”
“Bar’in.” Garin’s voice shook, but he hoped Bar’in might mistake the shake to be from anger rather than panic. “Tell me what?”
Bar’in’s look said he saw or smelled the panic clearly, the pity never leaving his gaze. “Patrick got you a position with us. It’s not a lot of money and I get that you have responsibilities, but it’s not nothing and it wouldn’t be near as dangerous, and more importantly it would keep the two of you together, which—” Bar’in shrugged and looked to Tar who nodded in agreement “—we thought he wanted.”
But he didn’t.
Garin’s world tilted sideways. He wished it would tilt farther. Flip all the way and drop him into the abyss.
Minutes ago, he’d been all but certain Sazahk’s feelings mirrored his own. He’d been certain the relationship budding between them was the real thing. Deep. Meaningful. Something with a future if only the world was kinder.
The looming end of their time together had sucked the oxygen out of the room for him, but Sazahk…Sazahk hadn’t even blinked.
Sazahk had had the chance to ask him to stay…and he hadn’t.
“Hey, I still think he wants that.” Bar’in grabbed Garin’s upper arm and gave him an encouraging little shake, as though he hadn’t been threatening to tear Garin’s throat out seconds before. “He’s crazy about you.”
Except he wasn’t. He wasn’t crazy about him.
Garin had let Sazahk’s confession go to his head. He’d been swept away by Sazahk telling him he was wonderful, and by the realization that Sazahk wanted him in a way that, by his own words, he rarely—if ever—wanted anyone. He’d let Sazahk’s confession make him feel special.
And in his elation, he’d conflated romance, desire, admiration, fondness, commitment, relationships, and…love.
He’d fallen in love with Sazahk and to Sazahk he was a damn fling.
God, how could he have been so foolish? He’d gotten so carried away in his own head, he’d ignored everything Sazahk had told him for the weeks that they’d been together. At no point had Sazahk ever indicated either a past, present, or future interest in a relationship, but when he’d kissed Garin…it had felt like one.
He stared at Sazahk across the room, still talking to his brother, and missed Bar’in reaching for him. He jumped when Bar’in grabbed his forearm, his emotional fallout putting his body on high alert.
“Hey—”
“I’m fine.” Garin shook him off. “I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t fine. He wasn’t fine, and he was pretty sure Bar’in knew it. He was pretty sure Tar knew it. He was pretty sure anyone looking at him at that precise moment knew it. He’d been an idiot, and it felt stamped across his face.
And he had no one to blame but himself for the bile rising in his throat.
The pity in Bar’in’s eyes ratcheted up to an unbearable level, and Garin stumbled back. He bumped into a waiter holding a plate of hors d’oeuvres.
“I’m so sorry.” He caught the man’s arm and straightened him before his complexly coiffed pastries hit the floor.
Bar’in winced. “Garin?—”
“I just—” Garin raised a hand and continued his retreat, his heart pounding in his ears. “I need a drink.”
Bar’in opened his mouth and even Tar started forward, but Garin turned away. He didn’t want to hear what they had to say. What could they possibly have to say? It was obvious to everyone what had happened.
Besides, apparently Garin couldn’t be trusted to hear what people said. He could only ever hear what he wanted to hear.
Chapter Nineteen
“You look very nice.” Serihk led Sazahk to a quiet corner where Sazahk’s implant informed him there were no microphones to pick up their private conversation.
Sazahk set his plate of un-sampled snacks on the standing-height table beside them. “I would expect that to be your opinion, considering your role in procuring my attire.” Serihk winced at his words and Sazahk quickly added to his statement. “For which I am very grateful. Bar’in informs me that the gold brings out a pleasing undertone to the yellow hue of my skin when I’m happy.”
Bar’in’s awareness of the meaning of Sazahk’s colors had thrown Sazahk at first, but upon reflection, he realized it shouldn’t have. The klah’eel was impressively observant, and Sazahk hadn’t made a concentrated effort to obscure his mind’s inner workings.
