Don't Look Back by Josh Lanyon Page A

feeling again until he finally regained his memory.
    He said, “So what made you change your mind?"
    Mike raised a lazy eyebrow. “About what?"
    "You don't think I'm guilty anymore? In the hospital you acted like you thought I was guilty."
    Mike took another swig of beer and seemed to consider the question. “I'm not going to pretend. I'd have been happy if you were guilty. I was mad as hell at you. At the way things ended between us."
    Peter tried to take this in. “But you ended them."
    "Yeah. I did.” Mike seemed to weigh his words. “I liked you a lot, Peter. I thought ... Well, it doesn't matter. But before long it was obvious it wasn't going anywhere, and that it never would so long as Cole was part of your life."
    "There wasn't anything between Cole and me. Cole said himself—"
    "I don't know what Cole told you, and maybe you weren't sleeping together, but he had you on a very short leash. You've been infatuated with him since college, and from what I could see, he liked and encouraged that."
    Peter was shaking his head, rejecting this. “He's married."
    Mike said dryly, “I know all about Cole's marriage. I heard about it in detail from you. The third time you broke a date with me to go listen to Cole whine about his marriage was when I told you I'd had enough. That you were going to have to decide whether you wanted a relationship with me or with Cole. You chose Cole."
    "I ... chose Cole?"
    Mike said wearily, “Not in so many words. Your argument was that you weren't going to be handed any ultimatums. And my argument was I wanted a real relationship with you—or to at least to explore the possibilities of having one—but that I didn't want to work around Cole's schedule."
    Peter said slowly, “But if Cole was going through a bad time..."
    "Yep,” Mike said curtly. “I wasn't very sympathetic, and I'm still not. I think Cole Constantine is a user and a manipulator. And probably a closet case. I think he married Angela Rowland for money, and I think he got what he paid for. I told you then and I'm telling you now, he's bad news."
    "And you couldn't—"
    "No, I couldn't. Like I said, I had feelings for you."
    Peter said resentfully, “You sure didn't have trouble closing the door on me."
    "You have no idea how I felt. You didn't make any attempt to find out. You chose Cole, and that was that."
    "I think six months of Zoloft says otherwise."
    After a hesitation, Mike said, “Obviously, I didn't know that. I still don't. That is, you might have been taking antidepressants for a lot of other reasons."
    But Peter was pretty sure, even if the details were still fuzzy, that the tension of trying to balance his changing feelings for Cole—his growing disillusionment and fear that he was indeed being manipulated—and losing Mike, who he knew, even without his complete memory, had been special, someone he could have really cared for, was the explanation for his turning to chemical relief.
    He rubbed his aching temples, and Mike said gruffly, “Why don't you get some rest. We'll talk when I get home tonight."
    Peter raised his head, scowling. “Sleep? You think I can sleep? My life is a train wreck.” He gave a sour laugh. “I've lost my job, I'm being kicked out of my home, and I've been arrested for grand theft and charged with a felony. I'm probably going to go to prison—if someone doesn't kill me first. How am I supposed to sleep?"
    "What's the alternative? A thirty-day supply of NoDoz?"
    "You're all heart."
    Mike sighed. “What do you want from me? You're in deep shit. And if I tell you who I think is responsible for it, you're not going to be happy."
    Peter stared. “You think Cole is responsible for my being arrested?"
    "I think Cole has been stealing from his granddaddy's house of horrors for some time now. And so do you, I suspect, which is why after initiating an investigation, you suddenly got cold feet. For the record? It's another thing we argued about.” He added, “Which is why I thought