Semua Bab Gold & Sand: Bab 251 - Bab 260

The door clicked shut behind him with a soft finality. Clark adjusted his glasses, rolled his neck once to the side, and exhaled sharply like he was releasing a conversation he didn’t want to carry. Daz fell into step beside him without needing a cue.The hospital corridors were sterile and humming, a low buzz of monitors and too-white lights. Clark didn’t speak as they made their way down to the lot, didn’t fumble for small talk or even sarcasm. He just walked—brisk, businesslike, jaw set.Outside, the day had sharpened. The sun was too bright for how little he’d slept, and the air held that biting edge of early morning smog. Daz opened the passenger door without a word, and Clark slid inside, gripping the folder tighter than necessary.Once on the road, the silence between them was thick but not uncomfortable. Clark leafed through the motion papers one last time, checked the hospital report again, and drummed his fingers against the leather seat.He didn’t ask Daz

Adam didn’t blink. Just dropped his keys on the counter, walked forward slow. “Daz ain’t even gone five fuckin’ minutes and you’re already climbin’ some rando in my goddamn living room?”Clark shrugged, casual. “You said I wasn’t your boyfriend. I took that as a glowing endorsement to get laid elsewhere.”The man started to stand. Adam stared at him like a gun might follow.“You,” Adam said, low. “Out. Now.”The guy didn’t argue.He grabbed his shoes and bolted, not even looking back.Clark stayed seated on the couch, legs crossed, one hand dragging through his tousled hair like nothing had happened. “You gonna throw a tantrum now, or just glare me to death?”Adam’s voice was ice and asphalt. “You that desperate to get fucked, Clark?”Clark didn’t flinch. “Maybe. Maybe I just wanted someone who doesn’t treat sex like a goddamn war.”Adam stepped closer. “You keep runnin’ your mouth, I’ll give you war.”Clark stood. Smirking. Testing. “Then may

Adam adjusted the cuffs of his black dress shirt with quiet precision, the fabric taut across his broad frame. His skin, deep and smooth, caught the fading afternoon light spilling through the windows. Honey eyes calm. Black coat folded across the chair. Gun holster hidden beneath his tailored layers. Everything about him looked calculated—ruthless, clean, deadly.Clark sat on the couch, file in hand, glasses low on his nose, pretending not to notice. Or care.They’d had sex that morning. An accident. Again.So no, Clark wasn’t going to ask where Adam was going, or why he smelled like expensive cologne, or why his shirt looked too good to waste on a solo errand.He flipped another page and didn’t glance up. But he knew. Adam was meeting a woman. It didn’t take a law degree to know the signs.Adam grabbed his keys.Clark rose from the couch and crossed the hall to the guest room, muttering to himself. “Left my pen—of course.”Then the power cut.Lights blinked off. Total silence.Then

Next dayThe apartment was quiet. Too quiet.Adam stepped out of the bathroom, but he froze halfway.Clark was inside his bedroom.Again.Adam blinked once. “You got lost, Harvard?”Clark didn’t even flinch. He was crouched by the dresser, one of the lower drawers already open. He was… putting things in it. Neatly. Folded shirts. Socks.“I needed space,” Clark said, like it was the most logical thing in the world. “Your guest room is tragic. One drawer squeaks, the closet smells like cedar and regret, and I’m pretty sure the bed frame’s older than the Constitution.”Adam crossed his arms. “That don’t explain why you’re touchin’ my shit.”Clark shut the drawer gently. “Relax. I didn’t touch your side.”“I don’t have sides. It’s all my shit.”Clark stood, adjusting his glasses. “Right. Of course. All yours. Including the toothpaste, the whiskey, the Wi-Fi, and half the bed.”Adam stepped forward. “You don’t live here.”Clark tilted his head, eyes innocent. “Could’ve fooled me.”Adam’s j

The hospital hallway smelled like antiseptic and low-budget coffee.Clark adjusted his glasses as he pushed open the door to Cassidy’s room, one hand still inside his coat pocket, mind already rehearsing what to say. “Just a quick check-in, nothing—”He stopped short.So did Adam, right behind him.Inside the room, Arthur was sitting on the edge of Cassidy’s hospital bed. One hand tangled in Cassidy’s hair. Their mouths locked in what was clearly not a platonic reunion.Cassidy had one hand behind Arthur’s back, steady, possessive. Like he’d never let him go.Clark blinked.Arthur flinched, pulled back immediately, face flaming red. “I—uh—”Cassidy didn’t flinch at all. He just turned his head slowly toward the door, looking so pleased with himself it was almost a crime.“Oh,” Clark said dryly, “am I interrupting your ‘visitation therapy’ session?”Arthur jumped up, fixing his hair with both hands. “Clark! I—um—we weren’t—”Cassidy smirked