Red Fish, Dead Fish by Amy Lane

Author:Amy Lane [Lane, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-63533-764-8
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2017-08-04T04:00:00+00:00

Fish Takes a Breath

JACKSON WOKE up after dark, alone in bed, shivering in the thin light from the bedside lamp. Ellery’s computer was still open on the end table nearby, but the screen had gone dark. He must have pulled it in to work while Jackson had been out.

He tried to sit up and yelped because God, yes, he really had refucked his shoulder in the last two days.

“Don’t move!” Ellery called from the kitchen. “I’m bringing you some ibuprofen for your fever!”

“I do not have a fever!” But he couldn’t stop shivering. His shoulder felt hot to the touch.

“And I don’t have control issues!” Ellery snapped.

A rusty chuckle escaped Jackson’s chest. Ellery organized his shoes by color and type—oxfords or wingtips. He organized his socks by color and type—black dress or white athletic. He organized his suits by color and type—and so on. He’d never seen anyone so neat and so organized.

“Shit.”

“Reality setting in yet?”

You said you loved me.

“Sort of.” Jackson grunted. “Dammit, I’m going to have to get tested again.”

Ellery popped his head in, a glass of juice in one hand and a bottle of painkillers in the other. “We can do that tomorrow morning before we go in to work.”

Jackson groaned. “God—what am I going to say about work?”

“You were out on a case,” Ellery muttered. “Heroin family is in custody and using our services, and the police are following your lead on the house. What’s to do?” He sat down again next to Jackson on the bed. Jackson had time to look at him, the way his eyes softened with worry, how his lower lip had swollen where he’d bitten it.

Jackson had thought he’d never see Ellery again. A chasm of ache opened in his stomach that he could, possibly, have never seen Ellery again.

And then he focused on what Ellery had just said and a whole different relief hit him.

Oh. Oh yeah. The whole entire world didn’t know about Jackson’s night—just Ellery. Somehow his very pragmatism helped.

“Did you call Tess Dakin?” he asked, and Ellery’s patently false look of contrition told him all he wanted to know.

“Oh. Tess. Do you think she’d be interested?”

“No, Ellery—I don’t. Maybe we never have to talk to her again, and your buddy Kryzynski could take care of all the police work on this one.”

Ellery grunted. “Touché. I called Kryzynski. You can call Ms. Dakin.”

And suddenly the jealousy wasn’t even funny. Because Ellery had the courage to say the big words, and Jackson’s heart was still learning how to swim in that and not drown.

“You, uh….” His chin wobbled, and he willed himself to pull his shit together. “You know—I mean know that I wouldn’t ever… that you and me, it’s different. It’s important. It’s… I’m not going to sleep with anyone else—” Oh God. Owens’s face as he climaxed and shuddered in ecstasy. “On purpose.” Oh for fuck’s sake. This was hard. Taking Billy Bob and finding a hotel to die in would have been easier.

“Here,” Ellery said quietly. “Take this.

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