Homecoming Hearts Series Collection

by HJ Welch

  What did it matter now, really? There was no chance he and Corey could be together. Their parting was already bitter enough and Corey had made his feelings clear by blocking Reyse from every possible means of getting in touch. Whatever they’d had was now gone.

  So Reyse handed back the statement with a single, resigned nod. So be it.

  Kevin didn’t give him a chance to breathe. He escorted him back to his apartment and sat on the sofa, angrily jabbing at his phone while Reyse took a shower and repacked his suitcase.

  Then it was a brief stop to be seen having lunch at the exclusive sushi place, Urasawa, with a big-name producer. He was more interested in telling Reyse about his new line of underwear than he was discussing music. He didn’t even seem to be aware of the controversy that was chasing Reyse since that morning. But he was a tough, manly-looking guy who brought along a couple of women as arm accessories for them, so it was good for Reyse’s image, apparently. Reyse numbed himself to the whole stupid thing.

  After that, he was whisked off to the airport again with a first-class ticket to London Heathrow and the understanding that Bella knew he was on his way to ‘make a big show of affection for his scorned lover.’

  What a load of horseshit.

  Reyse hadn’t even spoken to Bella yet, but he hoped she would be sympathetic. In the meantime, he allowed himself to be bustled into the front of the plane, cold Champagne pressed into his hand as the jet took off.

  Every step taking him further and further away from Corey.

  Dealing with his parents hadn’t been much better. Or his mom, Reyse really meant. Of course he hadn’t spoken to his dad.

  She had been upset and concerned to find both him and Corey gone by the time she’d woken up that morning. He’d sent her a text, but she hadn’t been happy until he’d given her a call while waiting for the plane to start its taxiing. Even then she’d been obviously distressed.

  “But…you didn’t say goodbye?” she said several times.

  “I know, Mom,” Reyse replied with a sigh. Fuck, he was a shitty son. “It’s an emergency.”

  “I don’t get why anyone would say these things,” she replied. “Corey was so nice.”

  Reyse couldn’t fault her there.

  He’d passed on his sincerest apologies several times and she’d promised to talk to his dad. Evangeline sent him a curt text chiding him for not speaking to her before he left. He knew she was trying to be funny and lighten the mood, but her words just made Reyse feel even more hollow.

  Dave had been most likely relieved to see the back of him.

  Reyse slept for the majority of the flight, unable to even listen to music he was so preoccupied. But it meant the eleven hours passed quicker than he wanted it to.

  To his complete lack of surprise, there was a throng of British reporters waiting at the gate when he walked through. A wall of flashing lights greeted him with a chorus of shouts and bellows as he dragged his suitcase out of customs, looking for his driver.

  “Reyse! Are you a poofter?” one guy yelled with a thick East London accent.

  “What does Bella have to say about all this?”

  “Who’s the guy, Hicks?”

  Reyse pulled the peak of his baseball cap down further and kept walking toward the man holding his name. There was also a hefty crowd of fans all clamoring to get photos on their phones. But Reyse’s driver was big enough to play defense for the Rams – or on a rugby team, considering this was the UK – and did his best to put himself between Reyse and all the lenses. He deftly took the handle of Reyse’s case and marched them through to the parking lot.

  “Come on, mate,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Ignore all those wankers. Let’s get you to your missus.”

  Reyse didn’t know if a guy like this would be so nice if he knew the rumors about him being gay were true. But he liked to think he would. He got Reyse into his pristine car with minimal fuss and whistled as he switched the radio to an easy listening station playing George Michael.

  They were meeting Bella at Pinewood Studios, one of London’s biggest film lots. Apparently, Reyse’s people had bullied her people into allowing her the afternoon off to be seen out with Reyse, all happy like they were a real couple with no problems whatsoever. Because heaven forbid her job came before Reyse’s PR.

  He’d managed to grab a couple of hours sleep in the car, but he was still groggy from jetlag and snippy from the whole infuriating situation when he arrived at Pinewood. He thanked his driver, though, who had made him feel at ease with chitchat about the weather and Arsenal football club, as well as being generally respectful without ingratiating himself.

  “You take care of yourself now, all right?” he told Reyse with a clap on the shoulder. He’d dropped him off on the side of the lot near Bella’s trailer. Reyse had to make sure he was seen being escorted there by security so it would get back to the media that he was here to visit Bella. What a joke.

  The security guards waited outside while Reyse knocked on the trailer door. He felt like a teenager being escorted on a date rather than a thirty-two-year-old man. But at least when the door flew open, Bella’s beaming face made some of his troubles fade away, even if just for a few minutes.

  “Darling!” she cried, flinging her arms around him. She was dressed in a simple pair of black leggings, fluffy slippers and a large T-shirt covered with bumblebees. Her hair was set in rollers and her makeup was half done, but she was still stunningly beautiful. Maybe it was just her open, happy smile that made her look so pretty to Reyse. His heart lifted as he hugged her back.

  “I’m sorry about all this,” he mumbled into her neck.

  “Oh, nonsense,” she said briskly. She let him go and ushered him and his suitcase inside. “I mean, yes, I must admit I’m quite perplexed, but I’m always happy to see you. How’s your father?”

  Great. So Reyse’s people hadn’t told her what was actually going on. Unless she was just being polite.

  “My dad’s awake and on the mend,” Reyse said, putting the most positive spin on it that he could. “I was happy to see him. But, uh. Did you see the story about me this morning?”

  Bella blinked at him as she opened her fridge. Her trailer was delightful, covered with flower-fairy lights and sparkly throw cushions and her collection of Funko-Pop characters, some of which were her own characters. The scent of her fresh but spicy perfume lingered in the air. “I was on set at five this morning, sweetie,” she said gently, passing him a bottle of sparkling water. “Why, has something happened?”

  Reyse sighed and sat on her couch. He retrieved his phone from his pocket, found the most damning article by that Dez guy, and handed it over for her to read.

  He watched her eyes scanning the screen for a few seconds. “Oh, the bastards,” she shrieked, her face contorting in horror. “The little shit weasels! Who took these photos? The dirty fuckers, I’ll have their guts for garters.”

  Reyse had to admit her outrage made him feel the smallest bit better as he took his phone back.

  He sighed. “No idea,” he admitted. “But…they’re not wrong.”

  Bella sat back at her dressing table and fiddled with her mascara wand. “Oh,” she said softly. “Who is he?”

  “He’s gone,” Reyse said abrasively. But he did manage to offer her a tight smile. “Kevin made sure of that. And anyway, it’s not fair to put him through this fucking circus. So, here we are, ready to be a madly in love couple. If you don’t mind?”

  It was Bella’s turn to sigh. “Of course, sweetheart,” she said. But Reyse detected some hesitation.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Bella turned around in her seat, biting her lip. “Uh,” she said, clearly uncomfortable. “IthinkIvemetsomeone,” she said in a rush, her pale cheeks blushing furiously.

  “You’ve met someone?” Reyse repeated. “Oh, hon, that’s wonderful!”

  Bella smiled bashfully at him. “Maybe. I don’t know,” she said. “He knows about…our situation. But, well
, he’s my new tennis coach and he’s very lovely. He’s funny and clever and a bit of a dork.” She smiled into her lap, unable to conceal her happiness. “And he likes holding my hand and is a simply wonderful kisser and he doesn’t want to have sex with me at all.” She looked back up at Reyse. “Isn’t that marvelous?”

  Reyse chuckled. “That’s amazing,” he agreed. “I’m so happy for you.”

  A beat passed between them.

  “I know, I know,” Bella said, waving her hand and turning back to her mirror. “It can’t really be a thing. I’ll keep it completely quiet.”

  Reyse balled up his fists. “No,” he said firmly. “That’s what I thought with…that’s what I tried to do. The least we can do is turn this shitty situation into a positive for one of us.” He stood up and leaned against her dresser and looked down at her. “We can use this as an excuse for you to break up with me. No one would blame you. Then you can be free to date…”

  “Tony,” she supplied. But her expression was one of concern. “No, darling, I couldn’t leave you in the lurch like that.”

  Reyse shook his head. “Screw it,” he said vehemently. “One of us should be happy, don’t you think?”

  Bella frowned. “So…does that mean you’ll go back to…”

  Reyse’s heart lanced with pain. “No,” he said softly. “I can’t be with anyone like that. Nothing’s changed. Except…well, I think it might be a little harder now, knowing what I’ve lost.”

  Bella huffed and crossed her arms. “This is so silly,” she said heatedly. “They can’t force you to be something you’re not.”

  “With the number of sales at stake, they can,” Reyse said sadly. “I’d be seen as perverted, a bad influence on teenage fans across the globe.”

  “Oh, and I suppose writhing around with that half-naked temptress in your last video was the peak of family-friendly entertainment?” Bella snapped, genuinely furious. “No, I’m sorry Reyse, but it’s outright homophobia and there should be no place for it in this day and age.”

  Reyse shrugged. “It’s just the way it is,” he said, his voice hollow.

  Bella snarled and threw her mascara across her dresser. “So, what?” she demanded. “You’re just going to let this boy go, the same as Jon? For heaven’s sake, Reyse! Life’s too short! If your father’s stroke taught you anything, it should be that.”

  “I don’t want to fight,” Reyse said. He couldn’t stop the catch in his throat, or the tears that sprung in his eyes. He tried to regain his composure, but Bella had already seen it all.

  Immediately, she mellowed and stood up, wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back, sniffing.

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry,” she said. “I just find the whole thing so grossly unfair. It makes me livid. I didn’t mean to push.”

  “It’s fine,” Reyse assured her.

  “It’s bloody not,” she said. But as she leaned away, she smiled, brushing back some of his hair. “But as long as you aren’t cross with me, I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

  Reyse chuckled. “Hell, no. How about we hit the town and get really drunk?”

  Bella gasped and clapped her hands together. “That sounds like a glorious plan,” she declared.

  So, for a few hours, Reyse allowed himself to be entertained in London. He and Bella had dinner and drank cocktails in an exclusive bar and managed to avoid most of the British press, but were seen just enough to get a few pictures in the press the next day. He laughed and let himself be hugged and hugged her in return, all the while trying to keep thoughts of Corey at bay.

  But when he finally crawled into his hotel room, flinging his suitcase open to rummage around for his toothbrush, he found something he realized didn’t belong to him.

  It was just a plain white T-shirt. Reyse might not even have noticed it wasn’t his if he hadn’t spotted the label and not recognized the make. Frowning, he pulled it from the tangle of other clothes he had thrown into the case when he’d first packed it at Fort Ladrillo. Then he realized.

  It was Corey’s.

  The shirt he’d been wearing when he’d first sneaked into Reyse’s room. Foofy had shown too much interest in it, so Reyse had picked it up and chucked it into his suitcase to try and stop the little dog from investigating it further.

  It smelled like Corey.

  The tears sprung from Reyse’s eyes before he had a chance to stop them. Feeling empty and dejected, he peeled off his own clothes, then pulled Corey’s T-shirt on with his own boxers to wear to bed.

  All he could hope was that, in time, the pain in his chest might fade. But for now, he embraced it, hugging a pillow and thinking of Corey until he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

  22

  Corey

  Corey knew absolutely nothing good would come of looking at photos of Reyse and Bella Dalton together. But it was like he was addicted.

  They made a beautiful couple. Even though Corey knew it was all fake, it was hard not to be swept away by their charade as he flicked through picture after picture of them smiling and hugging and walking down the street together.

  Eventually, Corey angrily returned to his phone’s home screen and locked the damn thing. He dropped it beside him on his crappy bed and pressed his fingers into his eyes, as if that might blot the images out from his mind and stop the tears from stinging. It certainly didn’t stop the sob that rattled in his chest. He couldn’t be with Reyse, so he needed to stop tormenting himself. He needed to be grateful for the time they had been able to have together.

  But this was the twenty-first century. Why should he be grateful for some borrowed time like some dude from the Victorian or Georgian era? It wasn’t illegal to be gay! He and Reyse weren’t going to be hung or thrown in jail. It was just because some fucking asshats had decided they didn’t like it, they got to pull Reyse’s strings like a puppet.

  Corey looked at the ceiling of his tiny, funky-smelling room and balled up his fists. He couldn’t change anything by being angry. Not when it came to Reyse, anyway. He had his own path to walk, as did Corey. He needed to think what he was going to do with himself.

  It had always been pretty simple for Corey. He just drifted from one job to the next, one hookup to the next, never truly committing to anything or opening himself up. It was easier to protect himself that way. But what kind of life was he living, really?

  This was no way to live at all. He was almost thirty and he had nothing to show for himself. No career, no friends and no boyfriend or girlfriend.

  But what he did have was close to five grand sitting in his bank account.

  For a fleeting moment, he resisted the idea of spending it at all. Like he would lose his connection to Reyse if he did. But that was crazy. Because whatever he spent that money on would always be from Reyse. So…what did Corey want?

  Other than Reyse. He laughed ruefully to himself and rubbed the tears from his eyes. Normally, he’d go for his favorite comfort food when he felt like this (not that he’d ever really felt like this before.) But every time he even looked at a pizza, his stomach turned into knots. It reminded him of Reyse too much. In fact, he’d not been able to eat much for days.

  Just like he’d never really believed in love before, he’d not believed in heartbreak either. But now it was like all those sad songs made sense. He left like he’d been ripped in half and a part of him was missing.

  He took a long, slow breath in and massaged above his eyes. He was in danger of getting a headache. This is why he needed to stop dwelling obsessively about Reyse. He couldn’t do anything to fix it. He was just going to make himself sick.

  No, what he needed was purpose. He wanted to mean something, the way he had to Reyse. For that, he needed a job he cared about with like-minded people to hang out with. Thanks to Reyse’s money, he had a while to catch his breath and maybe find those things.

  He swung his legs off his bed and grabbed his laptop from where it had been charging on the floor. He opened a job-hunting site and began to look
. If nothing else, it might take his thoughts off his broken heart for a while.

  The trouble was, all these places filtered by what kind of work he wanted to do. But Corey didn’t know. He just wanted to do something worthwhile, fulfilling. He wasn’t exactly sure what form that would take. He wasn’t trained in anything and he didn’t have a college education, so he felt like that limited what he could consider. But he felt like there were plenty of things he could learn, if he just put his mind to it.

  If someone was willing to teach him.

  Yeah, right. No one would want to take a chance on some smart-ass nobody like him. The best he could probably manage would be to work his way up from another delivery job. Maybe work his way up to manager at some fast-food joint. No disrespect to anyone that did that kind of job, but it didn’t feel like that was where he was going to find his calling, or other people like him.

  Who were his people, though? Who did he want to make friends with? Guys his own age, sure. But then he thought of Maria and the other awesome women he’d met at Speedy Pete’s. He didn’t necessarily want to isolate himself from meeting people outside of his own narrow demographic.

  But what then? An office? He could type pretty well and was tech-savvy. He bet there were plenty of places in LA that would be willing to take on a grunt to do data entry or fill up the copy machine with paper or whatever people did in offices at the bottom of the ladder. As long as it was a good company, maybe he could start there and see where it took him? It might take a while to get anywhere, but it would look better on his resume than a bunch of delivery places.

  Half an hour scrawling through admin positions on offer, however, had him feeling disheartened again. They all wanted two years’ experience, except for the ones who were offering unpaid internships. Corey chewed his lip. With Reyse’s money, he could consider that to get him experience. But he couldn’t live off five grand for two years. That would last him a few months, if he was careful. He needed to be making a living of his own.