He was distracted from his thoughts by a knock at the door and he scrambled to his feet. It felt as if twenty years had passed waiting for Jason. Danny hated not knowing how to help Paul. He needed to do something to repair the damage his rejection had caused and Jason was his ticket to the control he needed.
He opened the door and reached out, jerking Jason into the house so quickly he stumbled with a surprised gasp. “Has something happened?”
“Yeah, some cunts at a party fucked up my best friend,” Danny snapped in disbelief, seeing Jason had a large box full of supplies in his hands. “Will you teach me how to fix him?”
“Excuse me?” Jason looked around the house, pulling a face of disdain. The box in his hands blocked his view of the floor. His foot landed hard when he stepped from wood flooring that ended without warning, hitting the thin plywood that stood between them and the lake. Jason snorted in disbelief. “You have to be kidding me. Do you even have permission to live here? This place has squatter’s paradise written all over it.”
“I’m fixing it up for my father,” Danny lied, because he hadn’t fixed shit since he’d moved in. “That’s what he does, buys old houses and fixes them up. This is temporary.”
Jason looked at him, his brow furrowed in suspicion that made the hair on the back of Danny’s neck stand on end. He wasn’t used to people questioning him. Perhaps it was the spoiled rich boy in him, but being considered a squatter was highly annoying.
“Not that I owe you anything…” Danny pulled out his wallet. He flipped to where his driver’s license showed. “See, Carlow. As in Carlow Realty. He’s got signs everywhere. I’m fixing this place up for my father, that’s it. I’m not a criminal.”
One dark eyebrow quirked, the suspicion still heavy in Jason’s gaze. “How do you know Arty so well?”
Danny looked away, his eyes on the hallway, his thoughts on Paul. “Are you gonna help my friend or what?”
Jason considered him for a long moment before he looked down at the open box in his hand and sighed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Deciding it was better than nothing, Danny showed him to the bedroom, feeling his cheeks burn when Jason cursed under his breath as he tripped over some of the bottles running down the hallway.
“There is a medical journal article just begging to be written about you two.”
Danny turned around to glare at him. “I had a party.”
“If you say so,” Jason said, giving Danny the uncomfortable feeling that he saw everything and understood more than most. He stopped at the bedroom door, looking to Paul lying on Danny’s mattress on the floor. He took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “This is a horrible mistake. This house is a hazard to him.”
“I’ll clean it,” Danny said instantly. “I’ll do it tonight. I’ll clean the whole thing.”
“It’ll take weeks to clean this house.” Jason walked into the room and set the box on the floor next to the bed. He reached out, running a tender hand over Paul’s forehead, his face showing more than compassion. There was an eerie look of empathy glimmering in his eyes. “Adam.”
“His real name’s Paul,” Danny interjected.
“Paul.” Jason stroked his hair once more. He was patient, as if not overly pressed for time. When Paul’s eyes finally opened, they were still dazed with fever as Jason asked, “Do you know who I am?”
“I know I don’t like you,” Paul whispered back, his eyes narrowed in a surprising show of maliciousness. “So fuck off. I don’t want you touching me.”
“Paul Guy!” Danny shouted, feeling stunned to the core of his being because he had never heard Paul being hateful to anyone. The fact that it was a doctor who literally held Paul’s life in his hands made Danny want to punch him. He chose a hell of a time to get aggressive. “What the fuck?”
“Actually, this is a good sign,” Jason said, his voice losing its compassion as if suddenly being reminded of something unpleasant. “He’s more himself than he was at Arty’s.”
“He’s not like this.” Danny felt a wild need to make up for Paul’s bad attitude. “I swear, it’s gotta be the fever. Everyone likes him. He’s the nicest guy in the world.”
“Really?” Jason asked nonchalantly, picking up a bottle of soap out of the box and walking to the bathroom. He turned on the water and started washing his hands as if he were preparing for surgery. “I’ve known him for a year and he’s never been anything less than a complete and total asshole to me.”