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Grady put a hand on Lake’s arm and squeezed gently, pulling him back slightly so their hips bumped against each other. “This is none of your business, Mal,” Grady said. “You came over to get your boxes, and now you can leave.”
“You’re not even willing to work through this,” Mal said flatly. “Are we not worth more than that?”
“No, we’re not,” Grady replied, and Lake could feel the way he was bristling. He wanted to pull him into a hug, wanted to smooth the edges with his hands, work them out with soothing massages. “Youdecided that when you fucked some random in our bed when you thought I was working!”
“Eww,” Lake said. “I hope you changed the sheets before I slept in it.” It sounded like a jab, but he was also serious, because gross. He liked clean sheets, not ones that cheating scum had fucked on. Though it was Grady. He’d probably burnt the bedding instead of washing it.
Mal’s face darkened, anger flashing in his eyes. “How long did it take you to find someone so pathetic to bend over for you?”
“He didn’t have to find me,” Lake said smartly. “I found him. He’s a hot commodity, and you’re an idiot. Now, I believe he asked you to leave. I came here to get bent over, remember? Or do you need a map to find the door?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mal said. “What right do you have to speak to me, you little—”
“Consider your next words very carefully,” Lake said, his voice going quiet as he moved away from Grady and closer to the man who had no fucking idea who he was dealing with. Lake had swept the floor with more rookies that thought they were hot shit than he could count, newly graduated from RMC or the ADF academy. He was a major, and he could throw a man three times his size over his shoulder and then make him cry from the dressing down. “You can leave on your own, or a paramedic can wheel you out. You choose.”
“Are you seriously going to let him talk to me like that?” Mal sputtered.
“He’s not the one that isn’t welcome here,” Grady said, a slight husk to his voice that Lake had never heard before. He wanted to turn and see Grady’s face but turning his back right then would have been an amateur move that Lake hadn’t made since he’d made his way through the Royal Military College himself. “It’s time for you to leave. You have all of your things; we have no reason to drag this out anymore.”
“This isn’t over,” Mal said, pointing at Grady. “I’m not leaving until—”
“Get out,” Lake barked, his officer training kicking in without his permission. It was a habit to put a discussion down before it could get out of hand, and this had already gotten way out of hand.
A muscle in Mal’s jaw twitched, but he wisely turned and left the room. The front door slamming was loud, vibrating through the walls of the small house.
“That the voice you use to make people wet themselves while you’re in uniform?” Grady asked, amusement lacing his tone. And something else that Lake couldn’t pinpoint.
“Yeah, might want to check your pants,” Lake said absently. He tried to keep his voice light, but he was still tense, his body coiled and ready. Even his weakest soldiers put up more of a fight than that limp noodle had. If only to save face in front of their friends and colleagues.
“Them being wet isn’t the problem,” Grady replied.
Lake moved to the window, opening the blind just enough that he could peek out, making sure that Mal had actually left. And hadn’t clipped Lake’s car, because then Lake really would hunt him down.
He let it fall and stared at it for a second. “This is why you were upset New Year’s Eve,” he said. “Because of that guy.” Lake didn’t even want to say his name, didn’t want to hear his lips form the word or taste it on his tongue.
“I caught him with someone else a few days after Christmas,” Grady said shortly.
Lake wanted to drag the guy back by his hair and force him to grovel at Grady’s feet andthenkick him out. With a boot up the ass. While Lake was wearing his combat boots, of course. No sneaker or slipper treatment for the dirtbag. Steel-capped boots, baby.
“Anyway, it’s water under the bridge,” Grady said dismissively, turning his back to Lake and opening the fridge door. Lake wasn’t sure if he was pretending to look for something or if he actually was. Maybe he was hot? Lake had stuck his head in the freezer once when his aircon had been on the fritz and he’d been melting into the floor.
“It hasn’t even been a month,” Lake said, his face twisting into a frown. How was that water under the bridge? “How long were you together?”
“Three years.”
Threeyears? Lake circled the counter and put a hand on Grady’s upper arm. Grady tensed, still not turning. “Grady, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Grady asked gruffly.
“For him being a dick. For having to go through that. And if I overstepped; I should have let you handle it.”
“You were fine,” Grady said, a weird hitch to his voice.
“Are you looking for Narnia in there?” Lake asked, wondering why Grady still wouldn’t turn and look at him.
“Yeah, Mr Tumnus is waiting for me,” Grady muttered.
“Who?”
