Resilience by Bailey Bradford Page B

room to get by. Rather than let it get to him, he told himself that was the last time he’d have to put up with such treatment—even though he hadn’t exactly put up with it this time. At least it was over, and Todd’s relief helped ease the knowledge that he’d lost what family he’d had.
    He didn’t watch his father get in his car or drive off. Instead he locked the door then went and ran the hottest water he could stand. A few ibuprofen and a bottle of water, and Todd was suddenly so tired he could hardly stand. Tired, and sore, and he knew probably more than a little messed up in his head by what had just happened. It’d hit him later, surely.
    Or maybe not. Really, what had he lost? Had there been any love from his parents, any kindness he was going to miss? None came to mind, and Todd quit thinking about it. He had bruises coming up already, and he was hurting. He needed to soak then he was going to sleep until he had to get up for work. Dinner wasn’t a necessity, but the respite he hoped to find in sleep, the dreams of Adam he wanted to have, just the hope for those were as necessary to him right then as breathing.

Chapter Twelve
    Adam whistled as he locked up the clinic. He’d been busy as hell lately, and he’d been a jerk. Seeing Todd today had been like a kick in the balls. It’d hurt clear up to the top of his head, and he’d felt queasy, jittery with nerves, but he thought he’d covered it well. Maybe too well, because Todd had looked hurt.
    Petty shit that he could be, Adam had felt a quick surge of happiness, knowing he
    wasn’t the only miserable one. Then he’d felt like the complete and total asshole he was being. He’d wanted Todd to call him, to make the next move. What an idiot. He knew Todd wasn’t experienced, probably in any kind of relationship. Adam’s pride had caused him more trouble…
    “Aw, fuck it.” He gave up on the whistling; it wasn’t making him feel any better no
    matter how happy the tune. He had to make things right with Todd, like, now. God, Jameson, where the fuck are you when I need advice? Adam still hadn’t heard a word from his friend, and he could really, really use some guidance right now. Grovelling had never been his strong suit, and he had a feeling he needed to grovel. Adam hated that he’d been so stupid, so stubborn. There were so many things he didn’t like about himself, but he was working on them, and he thought he was making progress.
    But this wasn’t about him, not right now at least. It was about how he’d put the burden of their budding relationship on Todd’s shoulders. He didn’t have to dig deep to figure out he was scared of a relationship—scared of failing, scared of being hurt, scared of Todd really getting to know him and hating him, because Adam wasn’t the best or easiest person in the world.
    “Everyone has faults.” Adam huffed and glared at the ceiling. “Fine. That sounds like an excuse. But constantly dogging myself isn’t going to help either!” God, where was the line between being properly remorseful and pathetic? He had the feeling he was crossing over it.
    This self-examination thing is fucking hard. Adam walked to his car. He needed to quit whining to himself about himself. He’d screwed up, yes, but he was going to fix it. That was the way to handle it, not examining it all to death. Go to Todd, tell him he’d fucked up because he was a chicken shit, and leave it up to Todd if he wanted to mess with someone like Adam or not. He had the feeling Todd was seeing him through rose-coloured glasses, so he probably needed to point out his major flaws.
    Or did he? Maybe he shouldn’t, because he had some damn good qualities, too. What
    he and Todd needed was time to get to know each other. Which didn’t preclude sex, he was quick to tell himself.
    Adam felt marginally better as he drove towards Todd’s place. He wouldn’t park out
    front. There was the local Super S right down the street—he’d park there