“I don’t know why I do what I do, sometimes.”
Tom found a smile in the pit of his stomach. “I know. I just miss you, all the bloody time, and I feel like you don’t give a shit.”
“Oh God, Tom. It’s not that. I feel like I’ve lost a bloody limb when we’re not together.”
“Then why are we apart so much?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I just . . .”
Tom touched Cass’s cheek. “Just what?”
“I feel like I’ve got to earn it, you know? I’m so happy when I’m with you, it scares me.”
Some days, most days in fact, Tom felt like he’d never come close to understanding the dark, broken boy who owned his soul. Why was it so hard for him to feel loved? To feel worthy of love?
Cass shifted in his arms and knocked his head on Tom’s shoulder, as if clearing the fog from his brain. Then he met Tom’s gaze with a grin that warmed and broke Tom’s heart in one swoop. “Stop fretting. It’ll be fine. Don’t you think these last few months have been easier with Jake around?”
“Sometimes,” Tom admitted. “He’s a quick learner, and he’s really good at the stuff he already knows.”
“It’s more than that,” Cass said. “What usually happens when we open a new place, eh? You work like a dog, and we fight like a pair of bitches. It’s been different this time. You’ve enjoyed it, and I know it’s not me putting that smile on your face.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been busy.”
Cass let out a growl of frustration. “You’re not listening to me. We’ve both been busy, and I’m not jealous. I don’t want to piss around building sites all day, not even with you. And I like Jake. I can picture you fucking him, and it feels right.”
“But—”
“But what?” Cass put his chin on Tom’s chest. “Why are you so scared of how you feel about him? It’s not wrong.”
“Isn’t it?” I love him.
“No, it’s not, and I don’t want you to feel bad about it, because I don’t.”
“I don’t want two relationships. I don’t want a separate life from you.”
“Then let me and Jake be friends. He doesn’t want me any other way, and I’m okay with that. These past few weeks . . .” Cass stopped and gathered his words. “I feel better knowing you’re together, that he’s helping you, distracting you from working yourself into the ground.”
“What about you? Who’s looking after you?”
“You.” Cass traced a spiky pattern on Tom’s chest, jagged and sharp. “I know you’re with me whether we’re together or not. That’s enough.”
Tom turned his gaze on the ceiling and played with Cass’s hair. It was shorter than Jake’s, but just as soft. Smelled just as good. Did Tom deserve so much? Probably not. And the by-now-familiar sensation of Cass shutting him out stung as much as it ever had. “I don’t know if we can make this work.”
“We won’t know unless we try, and I want to try. Jake taps into a part of you I’ve never seen, and I don’t want you to give that up.”
Tom watched Cass carefully. His affection for Jake ran deep, but Cass was the love of his life. If it came down to a choice, there was none. “It could get messy.”
“Only if we let it. We love each other, and Jake’s amazing. All this feels right, just . . . don’t leave me behind.”
Tom took in the apocalyptic—if deserted—scene of a restaurant in the making: a dusty mess of exposed pipes, dangling wires, and haphazard piles of bricks, a far cry from the clean white walls and shiny wooden floors of the imagined finished project. Tom walked through the main seating area and opened the newly installed double doors that led to the food prep and storage area. More chaos greeted him.
Great. Tom shut the door and returned to the dining area. It felt strange to be alone in the eerily quiet shell of the old fire station. It was Friday afternoon, and the builders had taken advantage of POETS day and knocked off at lunchtime. Without their noise and disorder, the abandoned construction site felt like a ghost town.
But it wouldn’t be that way for long. Tom was due to meet with the interior designers in a few minutes, and Jake and Cass would be joining them.
A tremor of nerves ran through Tom. It had been a week or so since he’d slept with Jake again, and though things were good between them, he still couldn’t get his head around the prospect of loving a man that wasn’t Cass. Not knowing how Jake felt didn’t help, and he wasn’t convinced by Cass’s easy acceptance either. They’d lived with other men in their relationship from the very beginning, but not like this, and however much Cass told him it was all right, Tom didn’t believe it. He knew Cass, and beneath it all, Cass needed the security of Tom’s love for him. Deserved it.
And what about Jake? Didn’t he deserve better than being the third wheel of an unconventional relationship? Didn’t he deserve someone who loved him, and only him? Didn’t they all deserve that? Before Jake, Tom would’ve been sure of his answer, but now, with Jake kissing him good-bye every night and sending him home to Cass, he wasn’t sure of anything. All he knew was his heart ached for both of them.
A knock at the shuttered arcade doors brought Tom out of his musings. He went to answer it, glad of the distraction.
Tom let the designers in and glanced at his watch. Cass would be as late to the meeting as he was to everything else, but Tom had expected Jake before now. His timekeeping was usually pretty good, and he had the main plans for the dining area on Cass’s laptop, so the meeting was pointless without him.
The designers took a walk around the restaurant while Tom called Jake. His call went straight to voice mail. Tom left a message, sent a text, then sought out the trio of women milling around the dining area.
“Sorry, folks,” he apologised. “Jake’s running late. Did he send you any of the blueprints for the interior?”
Karen, a designer Tom had worked with before, retrieved a tablet computer from her briefcase. “He sent me a few files. They weren’t complete, but I think the dining area was set to go. Why don’t we start there, and pick up the rest when he gets here?”
They pulled up the plans and got down to business. Even incomplete, Jake’s designs were a dream to work with. It didn’t take long for the team to size up the task at hand.
“Who does your guy work for?” Karen asked. “We’re headhunting this month. Think he’d be interested?”
“You can ask him when he gets here. He’s self-taught, and freelance at the moment.”
“He’s good.” Karen put her tape measure down and swiped through a few screens on her tablet. “We’re crying out for talent like this.”
Tom smiled. Jake often seemed like the world’s best-kept secret. “You’re not poaching him just yet, and I think he’s more into web design, though I’m sure he’ll take your number.”
Karen rolled her eyes, but said no more. Tom heard the door open. He turned around expecting Jake, but it was Cass, late as ever, but for once not the last to arrive.
Tom frowned. Cass raised an eyebrow. “Pleased to see me?”
Tom absently squeezed Cass’s arm as soon as he was close enough. “’Course I am.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Jake’s not here.”
Cass pulled out his phone. “Have you rung him?”
“Yeah—” Tom cut off as the second designer shot him a pointed glance. “Shit. We need to get this done. They don’t have any more slots before Christmas.”
Cass pushed him forwards. “Go and do it, then. I’ll find Jake.”
“Really?” Despite a healthy texting relationship, Cass and Jake hadn’t set eyes on each other since that awkward first meeting all those weeks ago. “Where will you look?”
Cass stretched up and kissed Tom’s cheek. “I know where he lives. If he wants to be found, I’ll find him.”
There wasn’t anything else to say. Cass left, and Tom spent the next few hours wrapping up a meeting he no longer gave a damn about. It was 6 p.m. when Cass finally called, and the
designers had only just left.
“Did you find him? Where are you?”
“I’ve got him. We’re in the car.”
“In the car? Where are you going?”
“Home,” Cass snapped. He muttered something, to Jake, presumably. “Just meet me back at the house, okay? I’ve got to go; I’m driving.”
Cass hung up, leaving Tom more confused than when he’d answered the phone, but there was nothing he could do but lock up and make a dash through the evening drizzle to the Tube station.
It took Tom an hour and a half to get to Berkhamsted. At the station, he caught a cab back to the house. Cass met him at the front door and tapped his finger on his lips. “Shh. Jake’s asleep on the sofa.”
“Asleep?” Tom dropped his bag. “Is something wrong?”
“You could say that.” Cass tugged Tom into the kitchen and shut the door. “He got evicted from his flat. The landlord chucked him out on the street and changed the locks with all his stuff inside. I found him shivering on the pavement.”
“Evicted? Why?”
Tom started for the door. Cass stopped him, his gaze hard. “Why do you think? He missed a rent payment because some douche bag has been letting him work for free. What the fuck, Tom? You weren’t paying him? How did you think he was living?”
“That was his decision, not mine. I have a salary plan set up for him in payroll, but he won’t take it. He said he had enough to get by until the project was finished.”
Cass hissed through his teeth. “Of course he said that. Do you think he could ever ask you for a handout? He bloody idolises you.”
“You think this is my fault?” Tom turned his back on the kitchen door and gave Cass his full attention. “Do you honestly think I just let it happen? Bloody hell, Cass. Jake and I bicker about this crap every day. He won’t take our money.”
“Then make him.”
“How?”
“I don’t give a fuck how, just bloody do it.”
Tom wanted to scream. “It’s not that easy, and you know it. I’ve tried to force things on you before, and what happens? You run from me and start fucking up everything you care about.”
“Jake isn’t me.”
“Isn’t he?”
Cass made a noise low in his throat. In better circumstances it might’ve got Tom excited, but now, coupled with fatigue and frustration, it made him feel like weeping.
“I’m doing my best, okay? You must know I didn’t want this for him. I want him safe and happy, more than I bloody know what to do with.”
In answer, Cass glowered, his hackles still up, furious, like he could make Tom feel any worse than he already did. Tom resisted the urge to step closer, knowing Cass couldn’t be placated until he’d run out of steam.
“I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
Tom measured his words. “I need you to promise me you won’t run off if this, whatever it is, gets heavy. It was different before, but if Jake’s here with us, there’s nowhere to hide.”
“There’s always somewhere to hide, Tom.” Cass punctuated his words with a humourless grin, a grin that made Tom’s skin tingle.
“I mean it,” Tom said. “I have to know you’re in this with me. I can’t go through—”
“I made you that promise years ago,” Cass snapped. “That bullshit has nothing to do with Jake. I wouldn’t have brought him home if I didn’t want him with us.”
“Fair enough.” Tom suppressed a sigh. Cass had missed the point, or done his best to ignore it. “What happened tonight? How did you end up back here?”
Cass’s expression softened a little. “I didn’t know what else to do. He was shaking, banging his arm on the wall, and he could hardly talk. You said his TS is worse when he’s upset, right?” Tom nodded. “Yeah, well, I think the landlord saw he was vulnerable and took advantage.”
“Damn.” Tom scrubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t tell Jake you think that. He’s a pugnacious git when he thinks I feel sorry for him.”
“I don’t feel sorry for him, at least, not like that. I’m just pissed off this shit is allowed to happen. Do you know how much he was short by? Fifty fucking quid. Fifty quid and that bastard would’ve taken everything he owned and left him on the street.”
Tom took a moment to tame the anger surging through him. Cass had enough temper for both of them. “What did you say to the landlord?”
“Not much. I paid him what he wanted to give Jake’s stuff back, then I punched him in the face. The guy was a prick.”
“Did you call the police?”
Cass scowled. “What do you think?”
Of course he hadn’t. Cass was a true East End boy. He didn’t do police. “What about the landlord? Are you going to get arrested again?”
“I doubt it. I don’t think the guy was legit. The place was crawling with damp, and I swear I could smell gas.”
Tom closed his eyes briefly. Though Cass had a criminal record as long as Tom’s arm, it had been years since his last misdemeanour. An assault charge now was the last thing either of them needed, but the urge to lecture Cass was drowned out by the horrible image of Jake shivering in a dank, filthy flat. “So, now what?”
“I don’t know.” Cass glanced at the door. “I told him he can stay with you, if he wants to. That’s okay, isn’t it?”
“Fuck no. If he stays here, it’s with us, not me. This is your home. For this to happen, we both need to be here.”
Cass nodded slowly. “I told him he could have the spare room and we’d figure the rest out later, but he was so tired, I think he’d have agreed to anything.”
Tom reached out and tugged Cass into a tight embrace. “I’m glad you brought him here, okay? You did the right thing. I’m just fretting about the bigger picture, you know me.”
Cass stood silent and still in Tom’s arms for a long moment, then he pulled away and offered Tom a soft smile that belied the anger Tom had seen in him minutes before.
“I promised Jake I’d come home every night while he was living here. He asked me why I’ve never promised you the same thing.”
“You did promise me once; it just never happened.”
Cass’s smile faded. “We need to work on that, but we can talk about it later. Go look in on Jake, will you? I think he needs to see your face.”
He turned away to mess about with the stove. Tom left him to it and moved to the living room. He pushed open the door and was greeted by the haunting lyrics of Cass’s favourite Smiths album, and the heartbreaking sight of Jake curled up at the end of the sofa, half-hidden by the hood of his sweatshirt.
He was a few feet away when Jake jumped awake, his eyes wide. Tom took the last few steps and caught him before he could fall off the couch. “Easy. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Jake clapped a hand over his mouth, like he could stop the string of tics that escaped anyway, like he could shove them all back in. “Wankers. Shit. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
Tom held Jake a moment, then eased him back on the couch. “Don’t blame you. It’s been a long day.”
“I’m sorry I missed the meeting. I tried to get there, but I didn’t have my, shit, I didn’t have anything.”
Jake met Tom’s gaze with red-rimmed eyes. Jake didn’t seem the type to cry, but there was no hiding his distress. Tom saw the fresh bruises on his renegade left arm and his heart ached for him.
“It’s okay. Cass told me everything.” Tom gave in to Jake’s squirming and let him sit up. “Forget about the meeting. There’ll be plenty of others. Everything Cass said to you counts for both of us. You can stay here as long as you like, and we don’t expect anything from you in return, okay?”
Jake ticked, but even his trademark buzzing whistle sounded tired. “I like Cass. You won’t let him stay away, will you? I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t come home.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Tom kissed Jake’s hand. “He wants you here, and we’ll be here f
or you as much you want us.”
“Both of you?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Jake nodded, the gesture so slight Tom thought he’d imagined it.
Cass ghosted into the room and put a plate of homemade pizza on the coffee table, then he dropped onto the other end of the couch and put his arm around Jake. Jake met his gaze and smiled. Cass smiled right back and suddenly, Tom felt like a door had opened; a big wide door with the whole world on the other side.
Jake put his head on Cass’s shoulder and closed his eyes. Tom stood, his mind spinning, and drifted to the hall to ditch his coat and shoes. Then it felt like a magnet drew him back to the living room doorway. He leaned on the peeling frame and watched them together, Cass and Jake, his two dark mysterious boys. Huddled up on the couch, they almost looked like brothers.
Almost.
Jake Thompson rolled over in an unfamiliar bed. His hand bumped something furry and warm. What the fuck? He jumped, startled, until his vision cleared enough to make out the tiny tabby cat curled up beside him.
He extended his hand on instinct. He’d grown up with cats, though he’d never seen one quite so small. The cat stared at him, sphinxlike, then flicked its tail and went back to sleep.
A warm chuckle from the doorway startled Jake for a second time. “That means she likes you. She usually slaps Tom in the face.”
Cass. An emotion he couldn’t name crept over him. After an afternoon spent beating himself up against the wall the drive out of London in Cass’s souped-up Toyota felt like a dream.
Jake stroked the cat again and traced the dark lines that striped her ribcage. “What’s her name?”
“Souris.” Cass ventured further into the room and set a steaming mug on the bedside table. Jake started to sit up, but Cass stopped him. “Shh, it’s early. I just wanted to say good-bye before I left for work.”
Jake glanced at the window. It was dark. “What time is it?”
“Half five. Even Tom’s still asleep, but I’ve got to hit the motorway if I want to get into the city by eight.”
Misfits Page 10
