Patient Privilege by Allison Cassatta Read Free Book Online Page B

sports car thing that no normal person would drive for a quick trip to the coffee shop. He called those 'compensation cars', because normally, the owner of such a beast wanted to compensate for some other shortcomings. Not that Erik would judge—he just didn't understand the need to spend such a gross amount of money on a car.
    He crossed the parking lot, and as soon as he stepped through the glass door, the rich, dark scent of fresh-brewed coffee hit him hard. He took a deep breath and a lazy-eyed grin spread across his face. He'd always loved the smell of coffee. When he finally searched the crowded shop, he spotted the soft sprigs of Marshall's dirty-blond hair, contrasting with all of the boring brown, conservative coiffures filling the room.
    "Marshall," he called out softly, but loudly enough to get his ex's attention. He held his hand up and Marshall grinned, his tender green eyes sparkling. It nearly melted Erik's heart.
    "Can I help you?" the barista asked.
    Erik fought to compose himself, to find his brain and his voice. "Venti vanilla latte, soy milk, no whip," he said almost robotically, as if the words had become programmed into his brain. He held out his debit card, but Marshall's fingers wrapped around it.
    "Make that two and give us two blueberry scones. I'm paying," he said with a perfect, bright white smile that seemed to glow in contrast to his tanned skin.
    "Thank you, but…" Erik said as he slipped his card back in his wallet.
    "I know. I wanted to." Marshall handed the barista a twenty and told her to keep the change.
    They moved to the end of the bar to wait for their coffee. An air of intensity blossomed between them—an awkward moment brought about by sexual desire from one, which may or may not have been reciprocated by the other. Erik needed Marshall to love him and want him back, but he doubted Marshall would ever want or need him like that again.
    "You look good," Marshall finally said. "You've been taking care of yourself."
    "You mean I haven't been drinking. I look good because I'm sober."
    Marshall shrugged. "Maybe. I'm glad you're sober. I've been counting the days. I'm proud of you."
    The barista came back with their lattes and all conversation about the virtues of being sober ceased. Erik was thankful. Sure, being alcohol-free gave him a sense of pride he hadn't had in a long time, but hearing Marshall talk about it reminded him how badly he'd screwed up. He knew Marshall didn't mean to rub anything in his face, but he had. The last thing Erik wanted was to be upset with his ex. Not for this reunion.
    "So, how is your heroin addict?" Marshall asked after taking a large sip of his drink.
    "He has a really hard road ahead of him, but he has decided he needs help." Erik took a nice long drink of his coffee. "I think he'll be okay." He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. "As long as his partner sticks by him, I think he'll be okay." Marshall lowered his head. Erik sighed and started to reach for Marshall's hand, but thought better of it. Obviously, his ex had taken the words as a jab, though Erik never intended them that way. "I didn't mean…"
    "No. I know you didn't, but I… I should've stayed by your side. I shouldn't have kicked you out."
    "Marshall, you kicking me out made me realize I had a problem in the first place. I might still be drinking if you hadn't. You saved me from myself and in a way, I'm thankful. I just hate…" Erik choked up. He could hear the rawness in his own voice. "I hate that my problem cost us so much."
    Marshall reached out and touched his hand. "I hate the way things ended too, Erik, but it saved your life. That's all I wanted. I wanted you to see what you were doing to yourself."
    Erik's head lowered, jaw clenching. He had to take a silent moment to push away the painful memories of losing the one person who'd ever really stood by him.
    "I think about us."
    "Me too." Marshall leaned in closer. His voice softened as he added, "I haven't stopped thinking